Redefining Home
by ArianaKristine
Summary: Prompted. Killian goes to New York, but doesn't find what he expected.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Outside Looking In

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or its characters.

Summary: Prompted. Killian finds something else when he tries to bring Emma back to Storybrooke.

Note: This is the first in the New York AU series that I have been posting on Tumblr. Just cleaning it up and making it available here. Minor Spoilers for 3x11.

* * *

It had taken some doing.

Killian had spent the better part of the year clawing back to this land, to this world. It had taken a curse and some clever magic gifted to him in order to get in front of this door. Now, he shifted his weight back and forth on his feet, anxiously, rubbing the place where his hook was missing. Finally, he gathered his courage and rapped twice on the entrance.

A couple moments of heavy anticipation later, the dark door swung open. He froze, his face lighting up at the sight of her. She looked as lovely as ever with her glowing skin, sleep-tousled hair, and bright eyes. The scent of cinnamon and maple wafted out from the warm apartment, scents he had long ago associated with her. He grinned. "Swan."

Her face fell, eyes narrowing.

He shook his head. He needed to explain himself quickly, or this could go bad. "You don't remember me—"

"What do you want, Killian?" she replied flatly.

His eyes widened, mouth falling open in shock. "You remember me?" he asked in bewilderment. He thought that was the whole point: Swan and the kid would have a whole new set of memories, a lifetime of normalcy in striking contrast to their real lives.

"Yeah, I do. Why are you here?" she pressed, leaning against the doorframe heavily. He now noticed how on her left hand, above that twisted bracelet that never left her arm, a simple platinum band blinked in the low light.

His chest tightened, but he chose not to comment. "There's a new threat to your parents. I came to protect you, as it were," he mumbled. That wasn't everything, of course, but it was all she needed at this moment.

She sighed, pulling her fingers through her hair. The action pulled the man's soft shirt around her torso, framing the small distention of her stomach.

"You're with child," he commented, stunned. He had accounted for many things on this trip, but her being both married and pregnant were not among them.

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks for pointing out the obvious. If we're going to continue talking about curses, at least let's not do it in public," she said, widening the door to allow him entrance.

He stepped inside, blowing out a low breath. The apartment was light and uncluttered but lived-in. The boy was seated at the kitchen table, a plate of half-finished pancakes in front of him. He brightened with a smile as he saw him. "Hook! Does this mean everyone's okay?"

His brow furrowed, because this was all too strange. He was supposed to be struggling to explain magic and curses and other lives, not constantly being confused at how they know everything _and_ were moving on in their lives. "How do you know?" he finally asked.

Emma hid a small smile, pressing a hand to her belly. "Curses are strange, I guess," she said with a shrug.

"Mom kissed Dad and it broke our curse," Henry piped in proudly, sticking another bite of pancake in his mouth.

He gaped at them both for a moment. "How in the hell did Neal get over here?" he asked incredulously. Granted, he hadn't seen the man in a long time, he knew that Baelfire crossed over into their land and had not stayed behind with Emma and Henry.

Emma snorted, grabbing up her dish and bringing it to the sink. "Neal's not here. Henry has another Dad: my husband. He's known him long enough."

He grimaced, bringing a hand to rub his temple. "So, you found your true love, eh?" he asked, and tried to ignore the pang in his heart. He knew somewhere in him that this woman was not his true love; he had lost that centuries ago. But he had hoped for a bright spot of happiness in his bleak existence, and thought she would have been the one to bring that.

Henry nodded enthusiastically, obviously not in tune with his distress. "Yep! 'Cause not even death could stop true love!" he said brightly.

Emma chuckled over the sound of the running water. "If you want to call it that, sure. I guess technically it's true, but I don't like to think of it that way," she replied.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, feeling his face twitch in distress at her admittance.

She shut off the sink and turned, pressing her lips together. "He died in Storybrooke. There was some mix up with the new curse, some idea that things couldn't change with the original curse or something. He came back, and he ended up with us."

He felt the wash of disappointment come over him again, the resounding thud of his hopes dashed. "Glad you found something to make you happy, Swan."

She smiled faintly. "Yeah, Humbert, now, though," she said, lifting her ring to his view, and she twisted it fondly. "It was better in order for him to legally adopt Henry," she explained, but the look on her face said that she enjoyed the title of "wife" as well.

Killian sunk against the table, opposite both of them. "So, new curse in Storybrooke. Your parents are in danger, so I figured the Savior would be the right choice in fixing it," he said hollowly.

She nodded, grabbing up Henry's empty plate. "I guess I've been away from the job long enough, right?" she said, her lips tightening.

He hesitated. He glanced back down at the barely visible swell of her belly, the tension sweeping back into her form in a way that made him realize just how relaxed she'd been before. "It isn't your job," he finally said.

She gave him an impatient, condescending look. "I was written into a curse. I have true love magic. It's who I am, and I'm not running from that."

He opened his mouth to reply, when a key jangled in the door. He turned, swallowing hard as he prepared to meet the new man.

He was different than he expected, he supposed, but then again just the person he'd expect Emma Swan to fall for.

He was tall, dressed in a long trench coat, vest and tie underneath and a shining detective shield on his waist. A platinum band that was just a little thicker than his wife's encircled his ring finger, but otherwise he was unadorned. He had curly dark hair, dark blue eyes, and a tired smile split across his features even as confusion lit them at his presence. "Em?" he asked, and the accent struck him slightly, so similar and yet so different.

He watched as Emma's face, her body, her entire _being_ unfurled from the tension, the brightness he caught in her eye when she first opened the door increasing exponentially. Everything before seemed a shadow to this beauty. And it was all in response to _him_.

Emma crossed the floor, reaching his side and pressing a light kiss to his lips. They indeed looked like a couple that just fit together, perfection of pieces. Hook felt the last inkling of hope in his soul flicker out.

"New curse," he heard Emma murmur. The man's eyes fluttered shut, pulling her protectively closer.

"Safe?" he responded, his voice even quieter, eyes seeking out Henry cautiously.

"Dad, this is Captain Hook," Henry announced with a bright grin, hopping down from the table and running up to the couple. "He said Storybrooke's back, so we'll get to see grandma and grandpa and my other dad and everyone again."

The man's smile is cautious as he turns to him. "Graham Humbert, formerly the Huntsman. Pleased to meet you," he said.

He swallowed back his pride and took the offered hand. "Killian Jones. It seems there's a lot to catch up with."


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Still Didn't Send It

Note: How Graham and Emma found each other.

* * *

Emma liked the bar on 84th.

It was a couple blocks from the 20th precinct, and just close enough to her apartment that it wouldn't be terrible if she had more than a couple drinks. It was frequented by the cops that worked the Upper West Side, so it wasn't terribly upscale as well.

Emma felt comfortable in the bar. Always had.

She had just dropped off the latest stack of paperwork for the bail jumper she had turned in, so she felt deserving of a drink or two. A case finished meant some time to relax, enjoy a paycheck, and do something fun with her son for a few days. Just in time for the weekend. Henry, however, was at Avery's with Matt and Michael doing a school project and then a sleepover, so she didn't have any more responsibilities for the night.

She sighed as she eased up to the bar. She rubbed the back of her neck and let her coat fall. She smiled up at Andie, and then switched her phone to silent. She could drink in peace. She turned a coaster over in her hands absently as she considered if it was simply a beer night, or full-on whiskey night.

Suddenly, a frothy pink drink was pushed in front of her. She looked up, catching Andie's twinkling eye. "I did _not_ order this," she said bluntly at the bartender.

Andie grinned and flicked back her bobbed black hair, cleaning off a glass. "I'm aware of that. It was purchased by an admirer of yours," she replied, gesturing with her chin to the back tables.

Emma groaned. She peeked over her shoulder discreetly to see who might have sent the drink. She scanned an unfamiliar row of detectives before landing on one that stood out in the crowd. Her heart picked up pace, just a little.

Dammit, she had been trying to avoid that one. She wasn't sure which division he worked, but she had seen him a few times at the precinct. He was handsome; tall and strong but not bulky, dark curly hair and soft blue eyes. She had noticed him, all right. She noticed and cursed every time her stomach fluttered like a teenager with a crush.

She sighed and rose reluctantly, picking up the frilly drink with a grimace. She needed to shut him down now. He was … he was too dangerous. She thought about him too much, even from just little glances.

He was looking down at his glass of amber-colored liquor when she approached. She slid the drink onto the table, and he looked up. His eyes flashed with something, a flare of recognition mixed with surprise and delight. Her features set.

"Nice gesture. But I don't take drinks from strange men and I wouldn't be drinking _this_, even if I did. So thank you, but no thank you," she said, trying to keep her voice firm even as something in the pit of her stomach warmed and quivered as their eyes caught and held.

He looked down at the drink and then back to her. "I didn't send it," he said. His accent should have been surprising; it wasn't often to catch a cop in the 20th with an accent of any kind, let alone one that rich and lilting. Confusingly, she found that she had excepted that tone from his words, had anticipated the way his voice would sound even before he had opened his mouth.

She reasoned that she must've heard him around the station.

Finally, she shook her head to clear it, focusing on his words. She raised a brow. "You didn't," she asked skeptically.

He smiled, slowly. "No. I don't usually send drinks to women that don't know me. As for the fruity thing here? Nah, I'd take you more for a Jameson girl, myself." Even as he joked, there was something serious behind his features, like she could see his brain trying to discern something.

"I sent it," a voice came, two tables down. A sheepish grin set across the face of the beat cop she'd been avoiding all autumn long.

"No, Pickett," she grumbled, bringing the glass to his table. "_You_ drink it."

She turned on her heel, feeling herself redden. She felt more than a little stupid, and frustrated as well. She bit down on her lip, looking away. She crossed her arms in front of her and approached his table again. "Well, this is embarrassing then."

He shook his head, his face splitting into a dimpled grin. "No, it's fine." He hesitated before leaning forward. "I've been meaning – well, rather, I've seen you at the precinct. And you just …," he looked off, his brow furrowing for a moment. "Have we met before? Somewhere not in New York?"

She was about to drop something about cheesy lines, before the pull inside her seized up. She swallowed. "I don't … think so? I think I'd remember but maybe … you _are _familiar," she said, stumbling over her words a bit.

He gestured to the seat opposite him and she took it. She studied him a moment, over the curves and lines of his face, startling over the familiarity again. It was even more prominent close up. "I've traveled a bit," she admitted slowly. "I don't know where I'd start."

He frowned. "I transferred from Maine. That's the only place I've really been, other than here. Up near Bangor. I grew up near the coast, though. All through that area."

She looked away sharply. "I was …" _found_ "… born in Maine. Lived there until I was sixteen." It had been foster care, all over that area, where she had bounced from home to home until a particularly bad one. She had gained a couple scars, and then she ran.

He was looking at her with a strange sort of knowledge. He nodded. "Maybe there, then. I didn't stay in a home more than a couple months at a time, though. That could be why we don't remember."

Her eyes widened. That's where the knowledge came from. "Oh," she said simply. She looked down at his drink. "I think I need one of those," she said numbly.

He nodded, gesturing to Andie. He turned back with a small smile. "I'm Graham, by the way."

She reached over and took his glass. She took a long sip from it. "Emma. Nice to see you again."


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Coincidences

Summary: Emma finding her parents again.

* * *

The door looked just the same.

Same chipped green paint that creaked and indented, with scrapes of white showing the original color. Same black, blocked out "3," fashioned to be not _quite_ straight and attesting to the shoddy craftsmanship. The gold-lined and fogged peephole, peeking at her like a rheumy eye.

It had been a year since she'd seen it, since she'd been inside the apartment building that led to the little loft. Just looking at it stirred her soul in a way she couldn't quite describe, an ache that started in her heart and spread out through her fingers.

Things were good in New York. No, not just good – excellent. She had her husband, who she thought she had lost forever and couldn't _believe_ how much she loved. She had her son, who was getting brighter and more amazing with each day, thriving in the city. And she had her new little one, nestled inside her and shifting lazily, that she was so very anxious to meet.

But … she had missed them. She had missed Mary Margaret's annoying optimism and much-too-early morning clatter and gentle speeches with a glowing smile. She missed David's horrible attempts at subtlety and infuriating secret keeping and the way he'd cradle her head as he hugged her.

She missed her _parents_.

She bit down on her lip, reminding herself that she was almost thirty years old. She had been an orphan for twenty-eight of those. It's not like she had lost people who she'd known her entire life. But still … she missed them.

Carefully, she adjusted the shirt she was wearing. It was strategically cut, skimming her figure in a way that didn't let on that she was pregnant. She hadn't wanted to spring that on them, not when she had to convince them who she was. Graham had already grudgingly conceded in letting her come alone, while he and Henry set up a room at Granny's and no doubt would be playing darts all evening long.

Finally, she gathered her courage and knocked three times in quick succession.

It was quickly opened. David. He looked just the same. A smile tugged at her lips, as a wistful hope bloomed within her. "Hi."

Then, she watched as he staggered back and his face transformed.

Her face fell and her hands came up. "Don't close the door, I- … I'm, uh- … my name is—"

"Emma," he breathed, shock still coloring his words.

"David?" Tears built their way up into her throat but her lips quirked up. "You remember?" A relief she didn't know she needed built within her.

He tugged her forward, collecting her gently into an embrace. Emma's eyes fluttered shut, a warmth of familiarity flaring inside her. Still so cautious, David was. His hold was firm, but he kept a fair amount of distance, not closing her in any further. Part of her wanted to sink into the embrace, but another reminded her that it was for the best. Now was not the time to bring up her pregnancy.

"_You_ remember?" David replied.

She nodded, blinking back tears. "Yeah. But Hook said you were cursed?"

He grabbed her hands, pulling her inside. He shut the door and bobbed his head. "We were. We're back … or we never left. We don't know. We're trapped again," he replied. His eyes danced across her face with a certain wonder.

"But you know who you are?" Emma clarified. It somehow made it better. She wasn't dealing with cursed personalities anymore; they were her _parents_, not her best friend and her best friend's lover.

"Yes, but we don't know anything about the curse: who cast it, nothing. We don't remember anything from the past year. It's like it's been … wiped away," he explained. A dark shade of worry and fear marked his face, but was overshadowed by the delight still inside it.

"Wiped away?" Emma repeated. Her brow furrowed in confusion. Why just a year? That made no sense. There were reasons that entire lives were wiped from memory last time. She had discussed it enough times with her husband to understand that. With most of their memories, the people of Storybrooke would seek out magic or family … happy endings didn't end. Her parents were even still together!

"Saying goodbye to you," he said, interrupting her thoughts. He came closer. His face was crumpled, eyes misting with tears. "It feels like it was yesterday."

Her breath caught in her throat. She looked away, tangling her fingers in the shoelace on her wrist. She felt every _minute_ of their absence. It felt disproportionately painful that they didn't. She swallowed back the self-pity, turning slightly so she wouldn't have to look at him straight on. She thought for a moment, going over what she had been told. No clue who cast it, no clue why they'd been cursed … but they knew how long they'd been cursed. "Yesterday," she murmured. She looked up. "But how do you know that it's been a year?"

"Emma?"

Emma's head turned toward the stairs but she was caught in a blur of dark hair as her mother flung herself on her. She caught her with a huff, then was shot with a burst of realization as their stomachs touched. She looked down, her eyes widening at the distention that overtook Mary Margaret's small frame.

"As you can see," David said gently. He's looking at Mary Margaret with soft eyes, but when they turn to her she can see an apology in them. "A lot's happened."

Emma felt the tears she'd been keeping at bay bolt forward. She sobbed out once and she turned to cover her mouth, angry that she'd let it out.

"Emma." Mary Margaret's voice. Concerned, frightened, remorseful.

"No, no!" she said, trying to get her bearings. She sobbed again. "No, I'm so happy! I'm so happy for you." She swiped her cheeks, feeling the frustration of having them spill over bite through her. Her emotions were all out of control. She'd blame Graham later.

"Please. I know this is hard. You don't have to pretend," Mary Margaret voiced gently.

She shook her head, turning. Her face split with a smile, but she could still feel the damn tears on her face. "No, you don't understand. Dammit, it's the stupid hormones."

Her parents shared a look. "What are you trying to say, Emma?" David asked.

She laughed through the tears, feeling the irony build. "You say a lot's happened," she began, then pulled her hand down the front of her blouse to smooth against her belly. "Well, I might be able to call."

Mary Margaret's hands went to her mouth with a gasp. "Emma!" She rushed forward again, pressing her hands against her belly. "Sweetheart, congratulations!"

David is smiling cautiously from behind her mother's shoulder. "Coincidences, huh?" he said, his eyes twinkling.

She shook out another laugh. "Yeah, but a bit more complicated. I haven't even gotten to the married part. Or even the resurrection part and how I got my memories."

"Henry?" David asked.

She smiled. "Excellent. So's Graham."

Mary Margaret's jaw dropped. "Wait, Graham?"


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you all for the feedback on these stories! This is mostly a prompted verse, so let me know if you have things you want seen!

Guest: I can definitely have one that deals with Neal. However, what were you wanting to see with Hook's lips getting cursed? With the changes, I don't know how it would go over.

Anon: Thank you so much!

* * *

**Title**: Almost Like Déjà vu

**Summary**: Emma could use a little help.

* * *

It's late.

Graham sighs as he pulls up the collar on his coat, blowing out a foggy breath. The cold was biting, the wind casting an icy chill from the darkened skies. He spent three hours of overtime this evening, only to end up at another dead end. He _should_ be used to such things by now. He's been working Cold Cases for … well, for a long time, now. He rubs his forehead as he tries to remember just how long he'd been working that department. No matter; it is still just as frustrating as the first time.

He hesitates at the corner, looking down the well-lit street toward the on-coming path of the unoccupied taxi. He begins to raise his hand but then rocks backward, whistling lowly through his teeth before deciding to walk.

He needs the time to decompress. Maybe he'll even stop by the bar on 84th.

His heart speeds up, thinking about running into Emma. They've been meeting up only by chance; any hesitant request to see her at a scheduled time has been rebuked. They enjoy their talks when they do see each other, that is sure. But anytime he mentions coffee or an art exhibit opening, or even the dingy little break room at the precinct, she freezes up. He's given up on asking outright.

But that doesn't mean that he doesn't think about her. Honestly, it's embarrassing how often he thinks about her. Sometimes, it's things that relate directly to her: finding something on his case that relates to one of hers, hearing someone mention her bringing someone in, Simmons mentioning his kid's play at the same school her son goes to. Sometimes, it's far less specific: a bearclaw in the pink box at his desk, a dartboard in the corner of the old diner, a strange ache in his chest at the sight of his first aid kit.

It's all strange. She had crept into his mind when he first saw her, that nagging feeling of familiarity, but now it was like she was ingrained into his skin. Sometimes, when they talk, he thinks he sees how he feels reflected back at him in her eyes. Mostly, he thinks it's his wishful thinking.

He turns down the block, passing an alleyway when he hears the unmistakable sound of fists. He sighs, turning down the alleyway, only to have a mass of blonde hair hurled at him, knocking them both to the ground.

"Emma?" he asks, looking down at the woman. She's snarling in the other direction, towards the skinny man running down the alley. "Dammit," he mutters under his breath, and jumps to his feet to help in the pursuit.

He rounds the corner, finding the guy attempting to scale the fence blocking his exit. Hastily, he grabs him by the back of his shirt, yanking him to the ground. The guy struggles, kicking out and throwing another swing that barely skims his chin. Graham growls and wrenches his arm back, twisting him around to pull both wrists together.

"I had a handle on it," he hears Emma say from over his shoulder, panting as she came down from the adrenalin rush.

"Nothing wrong with a partnership," he fires back, flashing up a quick grin. At the sight of her, he frowns, seeing the thin trail of blood drip down from her eye. He pushes his knee harder into the perp's back, feeling a wash of protectiveness and fury at seeing her injured.

"As long as you don't want to share the paycheck," she counters dryly, fumbling through her pockets before producing an industrial zip tie.

Quickly, he lashes the man's hands together and hauls him to his feet. "Nah, I get my reward from the high-paying glamour of a government job," he replies wryly.

She looks away, holding back a smile, and it pools relief in his belly. She seems no worse for the wear. "Well, then … thanks."

He nods. "I'll help you get him back. You need something for your eye, anyway."

She opens her mouth to protest, but then snaps it shut. Finally, she shrugs, tugging the man by the connection. "Fine."

"Yo, you gonna keep flirting or let me go, already," the man pipes in, a scowl embedded on his face.

"I wouldn't be provoking that one. I could easily add on 'assaulting an officer' to the list of your no doubt laundry-list of charges," Graham threatens.

Emma hides a smirk, stepping forward. "Buddy, you're on thin ice," she hisses, dragging him down to trail just slightly behind her as she stomped her way toward the station.

Graham laughs and follows after a moment, his eyes sparkling with the certainty that his life is a lot more interesting with her in it.

XXX

"I don't need it," Emma whines as he leads her into the office. The division is dark, everyone long since gone home. He flicks on the light once they reach the small room at the corner.

He smirks, finding the first aid kit and snapping it open. "It's a bad cut. You don't need a hospital, but you might want to be a little fixed up before you get back to your place and freak out your kid."

"Henry's at Michael's tonight. I wouldn't freak him out," she grumbles, but sits back on the top of the desk. She glances around. "Nice office, you have."

He grins and opens up a swab. "Thanks for thinking I'm useful enough to warrant my own. This is the Assistant Chief's. We all take turns using it while she's on leave."

Emma rolls her eyes. "Forgot. Glamorous desk job, right?" she says, her eyes widening as he came closer.

"You're just jealous," he teases.

He studies her for a moment, her blue-green eyes so carefully focused on him. Cautiously, he brushes her hair from her face before pressing the pad gently to her head. She hisses and he pulls back. Gently, he uses the thumb he didn't realize was on her opposite cheek roll soothing circles.

Her breathing is picked up as he dabs it against her, as something swirls inside him. "Why is this familiar?" she breathes.

He takes a second to look back into her eyes before shaking his head. "I don't know," he admits. "Like … déjà vu or something."

"I don't believe in déjà vu," she says bluntly, but in a breathy tone that says she is doubting herself.

He finishes cleaning the blood, but keeps dabbing at the wound, his other hand cupping her face more fully. He can still feel her eyes on him. "Maybe something we did in foster care?" he asks. They can't remember being in foster care together, no matter how many times they've talked about it. But it must be the way they know each other, why his soul seems to sing in awareness at the mere thought of her.

"Maybe," she says uncertainly.

Finally he pulls back, letting his fingers fall down her cheek and down her exposed shoulder before coming off completely. He wants to continue touching her, never wants to stop. He forces himself back. "All better."

She nods, her eyes still wide, searching. "Yeah."

He turns to close up the kit, and when he turns back, she is still watching. "What?"

She rises, and his stomach bottoms out. He feels like he is falling, like his chest is tightening into a vise around his heart. She is pausing, mere inches from him. He can feel what will happen, like a phrase at the tip of his tongue that he can't quite reach. It's there. It's _all_ there.

Finally, she reaches out, placing a flat palm over his heart. He knows it is pounding like a jackhammer, but he is surprised to see tears forming in her eyes. "It won't stop," she murmurs, before turning and pressing their lips together gently.

He slants his mouth onto hers, pulling her close because _yes, here_, this is _right_. He is just getting used to it, about to pull her deeper, when he feels the dam burst.

_A wolf, a forest, a girl, a Queen, a vault, a slave, a town, a woman, a kiss, a fall …_

"Graham?"

He looks up, seeing Emma's stunned features. "_Emma_?"

She sobs, pulling him hard against her, wrapping her arms around him tightly. "Oh God, oh God, oh God," she breathes over and over.

His arms find the small of her back and tighten until there is no space to be found between them. "Emma, I thought … I thought I'd never see you," he says, huffing in a half-laugh, half-sob.

He can feel tears soak into his shirt as she presses her face tighter against him. "How? You're here, Graham, but you were dead and I never got to ….."

He finds her hair and tangles his fingers into it, smoothing the strands as he presses a loving kiss to her brow. "I don't know. But I'm here. Emma, you broke the curse."

She staggers back, slowly smiling. She pulls her hands through the scruff of his beard and his lashes flutter shut at the feeling. "Graham … I think … I think _we_ broke the curse."

His eyes snap open, seeing the fear read in her eyes. He carefully brings her closer to kiss her lips again. "Wouldn't be the first time."

Her brow creases in question.

"My memories," he reminds, staring down at her in awe. He still can't believe it, any more than the first time. He never thought he'd be granted someone to love, certainly not someone that would care for him back. _True love_. He cups her face, wiping away a stray tear. "You brought them back that first time."

She kisses him soundly, and half of him wonders if it isn't to keep him from talking about it more.

He can't say that he minds.

"You're not leaving me again," she says stubbornly, but the pain in her words says it is also her deepest fear.

He leans his forehead against hers. "Never. You or Henry. You're stuck with me," he vows. He wants to keep this promise, wants to live up to it. Whatever happens, he will never be the reason that they separate. He is hers. Forever.

"Manhattan," she murmurs across his lips. She glances up. "This could be home."

He chuckles, kissing her again. "Wherever you are."


	5. Chapter 5

Just a FYI that I have the banner and a picspam on tumblr in this verse. Thank you all for the support!

Guest: All noted!

BossLady: I totally blame Jamie and Jmo, too, lol. I have written the proposal, and will post here at a later date! I promise I'm working on Wilding, too!

* * *

**Title**: Falling into Place

**Note**: Immediately follows Almost Like Déjà vu. Emma and Graham weren't the only ones affected.

* * *

_Wherever you are_.

Hearing those words, in the gentle caress of his accent, pools warmth into the pit of her belly. She grabs him firmly by the collar, tugging him to her lips again, and he meets her eagerly.

Emma can't get enough of the feel of him: his hands circling her waist, the taste of his tongue against hers, the press of his body fitted into hers. Her head is spinning delightfully, drinking in every sensation and every moment of this reunion. She's not even fully processing the swell of memories resurfacing, as the whole of his presence sucks her in, immersing her in his strong arms.

He pulls back, just a fraction, his lips swollen and hair mussed in a way that makes her want to tug on the strands under her fingers to bring him right back. "Your phone," he murmurs, backing up. His breath is short, matching hers.

She can't quite focus on his words with the dark blue of his eyes staring into hers, so she leans forward to pull him in again. He chuckles, catching her hands in his and leans his forehead against hers. "Could be Henry."

_Henry_. That breaks the fog.

She quickly fumbles for her cell, buried within her purse. She yanks it out just as it goes to voicemail, "missed call from kid" flashing on the screen. She groans aloud, rubbing her temples. "His memories. If we have them back …."

"He must, too," he finishes, nodding in agreement.

It still feels strange, she thinks as she glances up at him. Magic in general is such a bizarre thing to come to terms with. She had experienced a True Love's Kiss without question before, with her son. Now, knowing that apparently a romantic true love lay between her and Graham …. She has never dared to believe that such a thing was possible.

Her mind traces the memories of his death all over again, the stunning look that overtook his face as he leaned in that final time. She had trusted in a happy ending that night, right before she lost him. Now, he is here, flesh and blood and _alive_. "Three weeks to break a curse. New record," she murmurs as she smooths a hand over his chest again. It's comforting in a way she can't explain to feel the steady beats under her palm.

He covers her hand, smiling sweetly. "Believe me; I'm surprised it took so long considering just how much I thought about you."

She chuckles. "Yeah, well I'm surprised it was so quick considering how much it scared me."

He looks at her thoughtfully for a moment, tucking a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. "You're not still scared, are you?"

_Yes_. The answer is immediate, snapping her into stiff awareness. "Not in the way you think," she admits finally.

He nods, tracing a line across her jaw reverently. "I'm not going anywhere. Not if I can help it."

She frowns, looking away sharply. "You couldn't help it the first time. That's the problem."

"Emma—"

"Let's get Henry," she cuts off, grabbing her purse to swing over her shoulder. Behind her eyes, she feels the beginning of tears she doesn't want to start releasing again. She's already shown enough emotion, and she doesn't want any more.

He doesn't say anything, not this time. He pulls on his coat, and takes her hand gently. "You want me to come?" he asks uncertainly.

She pauses, realizing that she did include him in that. She doesn't want him to leave her side, not when she still fears what can happen. Even more, she automatically thinks of him when she realizes she wants her family together. She entwines their fingers, looking at him with that new realization. "I told you: you're not leaving again."

"Just try and drag me from your side, princess," he jokes.

She scowls. "Does that mean I should start calling you Huntsman?"

He stops suddenly, and she turns back to him in surprise. His expression is serious, almost haunted. Tight lines ran across his forehead as his lips press together. "Please … don't."

She gapes at him a moment, feeling his words weighing down on them. She nods, finally. "I won't."

He offers a wavering smile. "I'll explain it to you, I promise. Just … with you, I need to be Graham." He gestures to her phone. "You might want to tell Michael's parents that we're on our way."

She looks up at him a long moment, then leans up to press her lips to the corner of his mouth. "Good idea."

As she speaks to Emilia and explains that she needs to pick up Henry early, she feels a short burst of happy surprise. _He's kind of a loner_. Regina's words echoed back in her head, and she feels a sort of pride that her Henry, the one that is well-adjusted and grows up in a place where he's allowed to be free, has Michael and Avery and Matt and Damon and the yearbook team and a crush on Selena that he actually _talks_ about with his mother … Henry is _happy_ here.

She presses up against Graham's side as they walk, the comfort level rising within her as the phone is transferred to Henry. There is the sound of a lock clicking shut before a worried, "_Mom_?"

"Henry. You remember?" she asks anxiously.

"_Yes! I thought it was just me, but I don't know how it happened_!"

She peers up at Graham again, seeing the smile that tugs on his lips as he watches her. "Yeah, I know how it happened. I'm on my way now. He's coming with me."

"_He_?" he asks, then there is a beat. "_Oh, _Graham_! Mom, he's alive! How is he here_?"

Emma's eyes flutter shut and she inhales deeply. Clean, woodsy, no longer leather but something so familiar …. "We don't know yet. But we're coming."

"_'Kay. Mom? I love you_."

She feels the part of her that was still worried that he preferred Regina slip away, locked into a deeper part of her. "I love you, too." The phone clicks off, but she continues smiling down at it. There is still an ache that reminds her that her parents are gone forever, in another universe, but she has her son. And now, she even has _Graham_.

"I keep seeing him, that last time. I remember thinking that he looked so familiar …," Graham murmurs, trailing his fingers up and down her arm.

She sighs. They had bumped into Graham two weeks ago, when Henry came by the precinct to meet up with her after school. What Graham doesn't know is how Henry teased her for the whole of the two weeks after. "I think he recognized you, too."

He twists her hand in his, hiding a shy smile. "Did he freak out? It's almost one."

She shakes her head. "No, he's just excited. Confused, just like us."

The silence that builds next is amicable, comfortable even. She listens to the sounds of his breath, watching the patterns the fog makes as he exhales. It is cold, to be certain, but she finds as she leans against him this is negated. She feels safe, despite the lingering fears that he will disappear again.

They reach the building three blocks down easily. The lobby is warm, but she doesn't let go of her grip on him. He tightens the arm wrapped around her as he presses the elevator button. It is startling how exactly they fit into each other. This is something she had barely known before, things she would have missed. The doors slide shut, and she turns, pulling his lips to hers once more.

He breathes against them hotly once he releases them. "Do you know?" he asks, nudging her nose lovingly.

She lets the words swirl in her head before she nods. She knows exactly what he's asking, because she can practically feel the affection and love seeping off him. Yet, he is still cautious; he doesn't want to scare her by actually saying it.

The doors slide open, and he pulls away first, exiting to the hall. She stops him before he can go further, feeling a knot in her stomach that she still knows she needs to express. "I do, too."

He takes a moment to study her features, a slow smile crossing his face. "Wouldn't have worked if you didn't." He cards his hand through her curls slowly. "Let's get Henry."

She nods. Suddenly, she is eager to see them all together. She bounces to the door, knocking softly. She expects Emilia, but it is Henry that pops out, hugging her tight across the waist.

"Hey, kid," she says softly, brushing through his hair. "How you holding up?"

He nods with tightly shut eyes. "It's a lot," he mutters before pulling back. He pivots, and grabs a surprised Graham next. "Missed you."

Graham embraces him cautiously, awe crossing his face. "Missed you, too."

"Don't go too far, 'kay?" he asks.

It tugs something sharp in Emma's heart to see them, to remember the devastated look on Henry's face after his death in contrast to the relief now.

Graham chuckles, and pulls him back. He brushes back his hair fondly. "I'd prefer to stick around, if you don't mind."

Henry's answering grin is almost blinding. "How'd you break the curse, anyway?" he asks her.

She feels heat bloom over her cheeks suddenly. It shouldn't embarrass her, but she's still processing the idea of this True Love thing and it's doing strange things to the part of her that never believed it existed in the first place.

It's Graham that answers, though. "Sorry, kid. I might have kissed your mom again."

Henry's eyebrow rises. "Then what took you so long?"

"Okay, that's enough," Emma says, feeling the blush overtake her once more.

Henry pulls his overnight bag over his shoulder. "What? We could have been having this conversation two weeks ago, if you had just listened to me. Graham could have helped me with that stupid PE assignment."

Emma rolls her eyes. "Sorry if we didn't kiss soon enough for you, kid. Guess you'll just have to ask him to help on the make-up assignment."

Henry's face transforms, looking between the two. "This is real, isn't it? We get to stick together."

Emma shares a look with Graham, her face softening. "Yeah. This is home."


	6. Chapter 6

**Tile**:Changes

**Summary**: Settling into Storybrooke.

**Note**: This is a mix of 3 prompts from Tumblr. The first two involved Graham interacting with the Charmings, the second involving Regina. I've cleaned it up some, but it was still mostly written during my 14 hour night shift, so there were definitely some feels being thrown around at that point.

* * *

"Well, I'll be off then," the pirate murmured lowly, tracing his gaze over the apartment building before rocking back.

Graham watched him a moment. "Thank you. For your help."

His eyes snapped up. "Wasn't for you, mate."

Graham nodded. "I know. I'm not thanking you for me."

The man's eyebrows quirked up as he looked downwards, twisting his hook. "Yes, well." He was silent a beat. "I'll be ... around. If more help is needed."

Henry popped up from the passenger door. "Thanks, Hook!"

Killian chuckled, backing up. "You're welcome, young sir."

Graham followed the man with his eyes as he walked into the distance, contemplative. It was clear the other man had feelings for Emma. In all honesty, it didn't bother him to know. He was fully aware of all that she and the pirate had gone through together. _Too alike but not alike enough_, Emma had explained one night. Graham knew better than most how easy it was to fall for Emma Swan. He couldn't exactly begrudge the pirate of that, especially since Hook was not attempting to undermine their relationship.

He sighed, stepping back into the car. If anything, the pirate's feelings may prove helpful as time went on. Just as long as boundaries were set and abided.

"I don't get why we don't get to go," Henry grumbled, breaking him from his thoughts.

Graham shot a smirk back at him from the driver's seat, turning the ignition on again. "Your mom's right, Henry. It'll be confusing enough with her trying to explain things when they have no memories. We'd only add to that."

Graham watched Henry's nose wrinkle from the rearview mirror. "I just want to see them again."

Graham bobbed his head in agreement. "I know. We will, eventually. Who knows? Maybe your mom'll have them convinced in just one visit," Graham teased.

Henry's lips quirked up. "_I'm_ not even that optimistic, Dad."

Just as it had the last few months, the title still bloomed love and pride all through him. It wasn't as simple as it that, though, now that they were back in the place they thought they'd never see again. He swallowed, pulling over in front of the bed and breakfast before turning to him. "You know now that we're back, your father's here. You'll be able to see him again."

A smile shot over his face, surprise lighting his eyes. "Yeah. I forgot about that," he said softly.

Graham pressed his lips together, looking down a moment. "We need to figure out what to do about the adoption," he said lowly.

Henry's head cocked to the side. "No, we don't. You're my dad. Besides, he wouldn't remember me until we break the curse, anyway." Graham watches him a long moment, looking for the hurt underneath his words. Henry's silent a beat, and then leans forward. "You're _both_ my dad. I'm glad you adopted me. Honestly."

Graham closed his eyes briefly. He wasn't sure how things would be once Neal remembered, if he would be able to keep the adoption legal. For now, it probably wasn't the time to worry about it. He knew how much Henry cared about their little family, how much they _all_ did. There were more pressing things to be concerned about; he just needed to focus on keeping them all safe and happy.

The little bubble they had in New York was so perfect, though, that trying to accommodate for how it would change was daunting.

"Let's get a room and get ready for your mom, shall we?" Graham finally said, sighing.

They climbed out of the bug, and Graham wrapped his arm around Henry's shoulder with one arm, dragging a suitcase with the other. Having the kid close was both reassuring and comforting in the midst of all the change.

The familiar scent from the trellis of flowers covering the entrance greeted them as they approached, and he inhaled deeply.

It was almost unnerving being back in Storybrooke. He wasn't exactly looking forward to staying in one of the rooms that held such bad imprints of the past. Granny's though, the diner … it was comforting to see. There were a lot of good memories associated with that diner, and the street on which he was standing was the same one he first kissed Emma on. The dart board was visible from his place on the street, and he chuckled as the memory sifted through his head.

He bypassed the restaurant completely, though, and headed for the check in toward the rear.

The bell rang as the door opened, and he found Granny and Red in a familiar position: bickering. It seemed amicable for once, but even so it still brought a smile to his face. Some things never changed. He looked down at Henry, who shrugged. "Excuse me. We were looking to book a room."

The pair snapped to them, eyes widening. Granny was all-out gaping at him, and Red's hand covered her mouth. "Graham?" Red squeaked out, voice cracking.

His eyes narrowed in confusion. "Wait, you know me?"

Both women nodded in unison, but it was Granny that stepped around the corner. "Is this some trick?" the older woman said, eyeing the weapon on the wall.

Graham huffed out a laugh. "No. How do you remember?"

Henry dropped the handle of his suitcase and rushed to Red, hugging her around the waist. "You remember! How do you remember?"

Red shook her head. "Better question: how do _you_?"

Henry snorted. "We've already had to explain that. Dad kissed Mom. Our memories came back."

Red looked up again, catching Graham's eye. "You and Emma?"

Graham felt a flush creep up his neck as he nodded, twisting his ring around his finger nervously. It was complicated seeing her again with all their memories. He remembered a time where she edged around saying she had feelings for him, at a time where he couldn't have feelings for _anyone_. Until he found Emma, feeling without a heart was quite impossible. The only other person who came close was Henry. "All sorts of loopholes in curses, I guess."

He was shocked to feel himself pulled into Granny's arms with a strong hold. "Good. It was too serious without you around," Granny said with a sharp nod. "Nice to see that things aren't as bleak as I thought, too."

He offered a wavering smile back. "Thanks." He glanced to Henry, and then back to the older woman. "How did you guys get your memories? We heard you were cursed?"

Granny sniffed, pivoting to get back to her desk. "Who knows! It feels like yesterday that we were escaping a curse, now we're back in one and Snow's preg-" She cut herself off, before huffing out a low breath. "Didn't mean to spring it on ya. Your mother-in-law's in her ninth month."

Graham's eyebrows shot up, and inwardly he winced. He wondered just how Emma was taking _that_ news. "It's fine. We'll be needing to settle in, though, before we can help out."

Red ducked her head, turning to the reservation book. "It's Storybrooke, so basically every room is available."

"Not 12," Graham said. He winced, holding back a wave of revulsion at the idea of that particular room. He gestured to Henry. "A double would be nice, maybe with a bigger bed. Emma's … well," he hesitated, wondering if he should mention the pregnancy. "She needs the space."

Granny looked at him pointedly before searching through the books. "5 has a queen and then a pull-out twin. Good enough?"

He nodded, and she pulled down the key. "Thank you." He turned and placed a hand on Henry's head, ready to climb the stairs.

"Graham." He turned back, catching Red's soft smile. "Glad you're back."

He gave a final smile, glad to be free of the awkwardness. "Thanks."

They climbed the stairs quickly, and found their room easily.

"So, everyone knows, I guess?" Henry said as he flopped onto the bed.

Graham shrugged and sat down next to him. "Seems like it. It's a good thing; we should be able to defeat this Big Bad and then figure out what to do."

Henry's quiet a long moment, twisting his hands together. "When it's all done … what if I want to go back? To New York?"

Graham stared at him seriously. "We'll figure it out as we get to it, Henry. But do you really want to leave everyone behind? Your family?"

Henry shrugged a shoulder, looking away. "It's safe in New York."

Graham nudged him. "Not really. I think I have a whole group of people down at the station that'd say otherwise."

The detectives down at the precinct all _adored_ Henry. Simmons in particular had taken him under his wing since their kids shared a school; he liked to show off to him whenever Henry came around after last class, and Henry ate up every bit of the attention. Henry even managed to get Lazo to slip him treats from the vending machine out of her own pocket. It was definitely safe to say he was spoiled there.

His words don't bring a smile to the kid's face, though, as he hoped it would. "I know Garcia and Simmons and Lazo and all them would say that New York's a lot scarier than some small town in Maine. But _we_ know better."

Graham sighed and tossed his arm over his shoulder, pulling him close. "We know how bad it can get. New York is reality, and it's a lot more unpredictable. Here, we usually know when something's coming."

"_You_ didn't," he mumbled.

Graham grimaced. "That was before I had my memories. And I still knew something was wrong," he explained slowly. It was still hard going over how he died with both Henry and Emma. He had tried to be vague at first, but Emma had coaxed it out of him. Henry had just _known_ Regina's part in it, and he hated having to confirm his suspicions. Later, they had speculated all they could about reasons he had returned, but nothing was solid evidence. He knew a lot of the time Emma was worried that he'd disappear from her life again, even after they got pregnant.

"Dad," Henry began, then hesitated. He twisted his fingers together. "What happens when we see her?"

He didn't have to ask who he means. He could see it in every line, every flinch, every flame of regret and sadness. Graham swallowed, considering it. "Whatever you want to happen. If she knows, she'll want to see you. But it's not her terms anymore. It's yours."

Henry looked up. "Mine?" he asked hoarsely.

Graham's lips quirked up. "What did we tell you when your mom and I got married?"

Henry smiled cautiously. "That even though you wanted to adopt me, that it was my decision, both morally and legally," he rattled off.

Graham chuckled, pulling him closer. "Exactly. It's your choice how often you want to see her, listen to her, and if you want to accept her. No one else gets a say in it: not me, not your mom, and not her. Got it?"

Henry nodded, looking infinitely more relieved. "Got it."

"Good, 'cause I need help getting that pull out bed before your mom comes in and hogs the real bed to herself."

XXX

Henry was half-passed out, his video game making considerably less constant noise as he nodded off, by the time Emma came home. Immediately, she rolled onto the bed and into his arms, pressing tight up against his side. She pressed a long, lingering kiss to his lips. "They remember," she murmured.

He pulled his arms around her lower back, tugging her as close as he could manage. "I know. She's pregnant?"

She nodded against him. "Seriously pregnant. About to pop, pregnant." She was quiet a long moment before she sighed. "She thinks it's great that we're pregnant together."

"And you?" Graham asked into her hair. He pressed light kisses into the golden strands, and his hand rubbed circles against the tense muscles of her back. He couldn't image the surprise of seeing your mother, who was the same age as you, pregnant with a child she will raise from birth.

She shrugged. "I don't know yet. It's strange. I knew they wanted another kid and all—" her breath hitched here, knotting on the idea before it abruptly evens. "It's not like they don't have a lot to catch up to with us."

A snort came from Henry's side of the room. "Yeah, 'cause _we're_ the ones with the complicated life."

"Hey, kid," Emma said in a falsely-stern voice. "Just because they're Snow White and Prince Charming, it doesn't change the fact that your dad popped up from the afterlife and then married me and gave me your new sibling."

Graham laughed outright at the boiled-down explanation of their situation. Henry sniggered from his bed as well. "How'd you stop them from rushing over?" he asked. He was a little surprised David and Snow hadn't arrived back with her, what with Henry so nearby.

She sighed heavily. "They're in the diner. I told them I was going to check to see if you both were awake."

"I'm awake," Henry said, popping up. All traces of fatigue had indeed been wiped from his features in anticipation.

"You sure you're up for it?" he asked Emma, reaching to rest his hand over her stomach. The baby twisted beneath her skin, a ripple against his hand. He smiled fondly, caressing the area.

She nodded. "Worst part's over. They want to see you, anyway."

"Great," he said dryly, rising to a sitting position. He held out his hands, and she took them to help her rise.

"It's a good thing. They like you, Graham," she said, wrapping her arms around him again.

He rocked them back and forth a minute before Henry clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Quit stalling. The grandparents aren't going to maim you, Dad."

He chuckled, and let a little tension out of his body with a deep breath. Emma smiled up at him gently, squeezing his hand in support. "Ready?" she asked softly.

He nodded, turning to follow Henry, who was already hopping down the last half of the stairs.

The diner was dim, lit by the low light of florescent bulbs. It was hard to make out the patrons at first, but then he caught sight of Henry wrapped firmly between both of his grandparents. Graham smiled gently, feeling his heart stir at the sight. Henry deserved every ounce of happiness he could get, and those two were ones to lavish such things. Emma sighed happily beside him, pressing into the length of his side lovingly.

He was content to watch the reunion, and thought it would last a lot longer. That was, until the dark haired woman hurled herself into his arms. He let out a hard breath as the wind was knocked out of him. She was shaking, tears immediately soaking into his shirt and the press of her swollen belly impeded her attempts to hold him tighter.

"Graham … oh, I'm so sorry," she cried.

He awkwardly patted her back, catching Emma's eye in bewilderment over her shoulder. "Snow … it's fine," he said lamely. He was unsure where this sudden outburst stemmed from.

David appeared next, carefully extracting his wife from his embrace. "She's still trying to process," David explained, pulling her in. "I'm glad you're back, Huntsman."

_Huntsman_. The name still froze something in his stomach, a hard ball of ice that chilled him to his core. It had been his only name in their world, but also a harsh reminder of the way he'd been outcast by human society. He nodded stiffly. "You can call me Graham, still. Thank you. And congratulations."

Snow sniffed, brushing underneath her eyes. "And to you! When Emma told us … I'm so happy for you both!"

Emma was hiding her face from them, a small smile crossing over her face as she rested a hand over her stomach. "This is strange," she voiced softly.

He nodded his agreement, finding it echoed by David even as Snow only shook her head. "No, no, this is amazing! You have your memories! You're back, and in love, and having a baby, and I'm just so—" She cut off, sniffing hard as more tears trickled down her face. "This is _perfect_," she gushed.

"Hormones," David mouthed with a fond grin down on his wife.

Graham chuckled under his breath, curling his hand into Emma's. He knew something about that. "I think we have to talk about –"

Just as he was getting to it, the bell chimed behind the Charmings. He froze, feeling Emma tense beside him. The woman stopped short, eyes widening at the sight of all of them. Her eyes bounced from face to face, lingering on his before resting firmly on Henry.

Graham shot over to Henry immediately to catch his reaction. The boy's face had drained of color, as he edged closer to Emma.

"Henry," Regina breathed.

Henry backed up and stepped behind the block of both his and Emma's bodies, subconsciously seeking the protection of the parental barrier.

Snow and David had both pivoted to face Regina. Snow's face was pitying, but accepting of the other woman's entrance. David looked a little more resigned.

"Do you want to go upstairs, Henry?" Emma asked firmly. It was a true question, leaving their son able to make the decision for himself. But it was also a clear warning to Regina: there was no way she was just stepping into his life again as if nothing had happened.

Henry looked over to the woman that raised him, and then back to Emma. "Yes, please."

Regina's face fell, absolutely shattering in distress. She watched Henry climb up the stairs without a backwards glance. "He doesn't have his memories," she said certainly.

Emma shook her head. "No. He just knows too much."

Her eyes darkened, flashing over the two. "You. You've poisoned him against me."

Graham stiffened, but it was Emma that glowered at her, exceeding the look Regina was trying to pull. "No. _You_ did that."

"Emma … she's helping us," Snow piped in softly.

Her eyes flashed and her grip on his hand increased. He could feel her start to almost imperceptibly shake, and he brushed his thumb over her skin to try to silently offer his support. "That's great. That still doesn't make up for what she's done to my family."

Regina straightened, leveling her gaze. "_Excuse_ me?"

She stepped toe-to-toe with the former Queen, intimidating even in her flowy blue shirt and barely noticeable bump. "He came back. But you still tried to take him away forever in cold blood. Our son," she said pointedly, gesturing back at him so as to make explicit who she was including in that "our." "had to live with that knowledge, feared you in those months before I could break the curse. How you treated him during those years before I came? Unacceptable. You don't understand how hard it was to get him to handle both sets of memories. He gets a good education, now. He has friends. He has all sorts of people who love him. He has a full life. He is _happy_ now. You will not ruin that."

Regina's lips were still curled in distaste, her face showing no sign that Emma's words were sinking in. "He is my son. You can't prevent him from seeing me."

"I'm not. You don't understand: I am letting this be his decision. And you damn well better heed his wish, or _so help me_ I will tear you apart."

Graham found himself staring at his wife with a new sort of awe. His heart swelled to see her defending Henry so deftly. He caught David's eye and he grinned back, the same sort of pride in his eye.

"Emma," Snow pressed, touching her shoulder gently to pull her slightly back from Regina. "Maybe you're being a little harsh."

She shrugged off the touch, ignoring her mother completely. "If you can help, great. But we're not here for some trumped up reunion in your honor, Regina. We're here to help everyone escape _another_ curse."

Regina crossed her arms in front of her, glaring at Emma behind a sheen of tears. "Here I thought we'd buried this hatchet, _Savior_," she spat acerbically.

Emma laughed humorlessly. "What you did to me? Whatever; it's buried. But I can't say the same for what you did to _them_."

He knew Emma was a little more on edge, a little quicker to action with the changes the baby was making in her, but he also knew that whether or not that was true Emma would still defend Henry to the end. He didn't find it necessary for her to defend him just as vehemently, but they had had that sort of discussion before and he knew there was no stopping it.

He cautiously stepped forward, grabbing her hand. Their rings clinked together as she let herself be led back into his side. "Lines are drawn. Let's call it a night, huh?" he murmured into her ear.

She nodded sharply. "We're done for tonight. We'll ask about your help if you can accept those terms," she shot out, whipping her hair back and then tugged him to the back.

"Emma," Snow called, but Emma ignored her plea, tightening her grip on him once more. He knew she just wasn't prepared for the white-washing her mother was sure to do at the moment. Things might be easier with Regina's help, but if the woman wouldn't stop pestering Henry against his wishes … they could do without it.

He stopped them just in front of the door to their room, twisting her to meet his face. He pressed his lips against hers, suddenly eager to show how proud he was of her. "You're amazing," he breathed before kissing her deeply.

She was smiling as they parted, her eyes made bluer by a swell of emotion. "It had to be said."

He nodded. "It did. And we'll let Henry decide."

"Not just Henry," she clarified, bumping her nose with his.

He carded a hand through her hair. "I know. But Henry takes precedence."

The door swung open, revealing a red-eyed Henry. "Mom. Dad. … Thanks," he said.

He smiled brightly, pulling him into the embrace of their family. "Team, right?"

Henry nodded, burying his face into his side. "Always."


	7. Chapter 7

**Title**: Late Night

**Summary**: Maybe she should wait ...

**Note**: This was not prompted, but instead was gif-inspired. You can find the gifs on my tumblr, by searching the verse on my fic page. Find the link to my tumblr on my author's page.

* * *

"Graham."

He looks up from his paperwork, sprawled over half the dining table. He looks tired. She knows the case he's working on has been less than fruitful lately. Still, she admires him for the work. Even after they got their memories back, he hasn't faltered as he includes Emma and Henry into a snug routine of work, family, and friends.

Henry is at Avery's, as was becoming more frequent as school picked up steam after the holidays. They have a big project due in a week's time, and Henry had her cell once he was ready to come home in the morning.

Home. Such a foreign concept. The false memories had done a lot in establishing the possibility of a home with Henry. But breaking it? Once she remembered her old life, with Henry and Graham by her side, it became a bigger milestone. Home is with them. She actually feels _happy_.

Graham rests his hand on his face, managing a small smile. "Yeah?" he asks, rubbing his temples as he stifles a yawn.

She shifts her weight on her feet, wondering if she should put off telling him. It's late: well past one after a long Friday that began at nearly five in the morning. But she's just come home after a long walk, after finding out exactly why she's been so lethargic lately. She has half a spine now, and she doesn't know how long before she'd tell him if she doesn't now.

Carefully, she yanks her gloves off and shrugs out her coat. Finally, she pulls her purse onto the tabletop with a clatter, and then scraps a chair back to sit in. She worries her lip between her teeth, before sliding her hands over to his. He catches them effortlessly, interlacing their fingers even as the fatigue settles on his features.

After a beat, she looks up. "I went to the doctor's today."

Immediately, his face flashes over with concern, instantly alert. "You just had a checkup two months ago. You hate going. Why … what's wrong?" he asks.

She looks down, playing with his fingers nervously. "I haven't been feeling like myself," she explains slowly.

He nods. "Yeah." She must have a bewildered look on her face, because his smile widens tentatively. "Em, I knew when you weren't feeling like yourself in Storybrooke. I _think_ I've gotten better at it while living with you."

She forces a laugh and pulls her hand through her hair. Then, she steels herself and decides to just let it out. "So, I'm pregnant."

It's not often that she gets the chance to render him speechless; often, it requires a physical action and, even then, it doesn't usually last long. Now, though, the look on his face is priceless. Mouth parted, eyes wide … emotions flicker across his face at such a rapid pace that she can barely catch them all.

"Graham? This is usually where you say something," she cajoles, finding a smile tug at her lips. She's been worried all day about telling him, but something that keeps passing through his eyes has her heart swelling.

He's _happy_.

She'd been shocked. She can only imagine how shocked _he_ is. There's been no other signs but the tiredness: no nausea, still some spotting, no changes in appetite or mood. The knowledge still hasn't settled in her head, though the first inklings of excitement are starting to bubble through.

Finally, he shudders out a breath and stands, pulling her out of her chair. His hand finds her stomach, making its way past her sweater and tee, cold palm caressing her skin. He chuckles as it finally slides into place between her hipbones. "Pregnant," he whispers, incredulously.

She nods. "I blame your fetish for open spaces," she jokes with a teary grin.

He grins in awe, finding her lips in a sweet kiss. "You think it was there?" he asks seriously.

She rolls her eyes. "We weren't exactly five thousand percent careful." It had been a case up in Hewitt, near the woods, and they may have been a little more reckless than usual. Not that she was complaining, then or now.

"Figures our kid'd get conceived in the forest," he says with a laugh. His eyes are bright, twinkling in delight.

She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him down for another lingering kiss. "Good thing, right?" she asks, feeling an old scar flash its way to the surface.

He smiles broadly and it goes back under. "_Great_ thing."

She believes in it, in them. All four of them.


	8. Chapter 8

**Guest**: Hey there! Thanks so much for reviewing! I know I've been updating rather sporadically, but I think what you're looking for (Emma's reunion with her parents) is in Chapter 3, Coincidences.

* * *

**Title**: 5 Times Emma Thought About Getting Married

**Summary**: Exactly as the title states.

**Note**: Prompted by both skagengiirl and BossLady, how Graham and Emma got engaged.

* * *

The first was when they were down at the bar on 84th.

They both tended to think of the bar as "theirs," since it was the first place they talked in this timeline. Besides which, the majority of the precinct breaked there, so it was full of people that they knew and were comfortable being around. Andie, especially, was their surprising champion. She was absolutely tickled at the idea of the two together, after serving them both for so long. Of course, she had only really been their bartender for three months, as opposed to the two years Andie recalled, but she was a friend for both of them.

"Hey guys! Bad day or celebration?" the petite bartender asked, perked up from behind the counter. She was already pouring shots for two rowdy guys at the end of the bar. She grinned, pushing back the new red streak that weaved through her black hair.

"Just unwinding. Beer?" Emma said, sliding onto a stool. Graham stood behind her, waiting for another to open up and rested his hands along her waist in the meantime.

Andie nodded, sliding over two bottles. "Happy hour," she said glibly. The woman always liked to claim happy hour for the two, even though the slightly divey bar didn't exactly _have_ a happy hour.

Emma smirked, handing over one of the bottles to Graham. He took it with a shake of his head, before reaching over to entwine their fingers. She had never been one too big on public affection, but Graham's unobtrusive gestures were worth every moment of brief minor discomfort. Besides, at this point in time, Emma was feeling too good to care about how their proximity was viewed by others.

Suddenly, there was a slap as someone's hand came down on Graham's shoulder. He turned, and his face brightened. "Simmons! Off already?"

The older man half-grunted, leaning his weight against the bar. "What's another three hours of overtime, right, Humbert?"

"Whiskey, old man?" Andie called, sliding two more drinks to two more patrons.

"None of that well stuff this time, young'un," he said sternly, to which the brunette snorted. She rattled something off in Vietnamese then disappeared behind the double doors.

Graham chuckled, tightening his hold around her waist. She sighed, leaning against his chest comfortingly.

Simmons nodded to the couple. "You two. The more often I see you, the more you look attached at the hip."

"That's because they have that FFL, Pops," Andie cut in bluntly, pushing over his shot.

Emma's eyes widened, and Graham choked into his drink. "Andie!" she admonished.

"What? Don't try to deny it. I can always tell by your hair." Emma's hand raked through her tresses before noting just how unkempt _his_ were. The bartender began stacking glasses nonchalantly before gesturing to Emma's outfit. "Besides: top button done up in this heat? You're fooling no one, Bounty Hunter."

"_And_ you just came from work. Animals," Simmons said sternly, but smiled into his drink.

Graham swallowed, and turned his head as he took a pull from the longneck. A blush was creeping up his neck as he blatantly avoided eye contact.

"You're no help," she muttered, elbowing him in the side. Andie winked at her as she did so. Emma huffed. It wasn't like she was going to _confirm_ that they had had sex in the breakroom before heading over.

"You act like it's a bad thing! The early stages are the best. Sex all the time, everywhere …," Andie's eyes shined over for a second before she reached out to swat at Simmons. "Why don't we do that, anymore?"

Simmons knocked his head on the counter with a groan. "You two are bad for my health. Couldn't you just settle down and get married already? Take some pressure off me?"

Emma felt Graham's hand tighten around hers. She felt the breath stolen from her lungs at even the suggestion. "It's only been three months," Graham said weakly. But almost unconsciously, his thumb brushed over her left ring finger delicately. A tremor coursed through her body as she tried to stamp down the sudden fear that had nothing to do with Graham himself and everything to do with her issues from previous relationships.

"Three months and you're still this nauseating? Must be in for the long haul," Simmons joked, finishing off his whiskey.

Andie leaned across to swipe a hand over the ring on his finger. "Don't be pressuring other couples to get married, too, just because you're sick of hanging around my parents. Idiot," she said affectionately, then whisked back her hair to get back to work.

"You'd think after two years she'd understand that I'm none too bright with this sort of stuff," Simmons said, but his dark eyes were soft as they trained on his wife. He shook off. "You two do realize we have security tapes, right?"

Emma felt her face flush, and Graham pulled her closer. "Taken care of," he said smugly.

He rolled his eyes and stood with his drink. "Just don't let it happen again. Chief'd have your head." He paused, thinking a moment. "Lucky there's no policy on detectives intermingling with bail bonds people, Humbert."

"Don't I know it," Graham replied simply.

Later, when they got back to the apartment, Emma felt like she should bring the marriage thing up. Because as flushed as it made her, she isn't entirely put off to the idea. She thinks they should have a real conversation about it, exactly what her concerns were, exactly what he thought about it.

But as soon as the door shuts, his lips were back on her neck, his nimble fingers unbuttoning her blouse, and all thoughts of talking flew out of her head.

XX

The next time is barely a next time.

They were walking down the street, all three of them. It was their day off, and they were enjoying the sunshine. Hot dogs were in hand as they made their way to the park. Graham was teasing Henry, pretending to grab up his food, and Henry was protesting with equal amounts of jest. Graham was smiling down at Henry, and the kid was grinning back up at him, adoration plain on both their faces.

And her heart twisted because she could imagine them as a family. All of them, together. Always.

Her finger burned with the want of an extra weight.

But then she realized after a beat that they were already a family. There's no need for legalities.

XX

It doesn't come up again for almost another month.

She had woken up in the pre-dawn hours, Graham's lips against her forehead lovingly. He had roused her only briefly, with the promise to be back early from work to celebrate. She had kissed him a little more fully, a happy birthday spilling from his mouth before he left the room.

Henry had been smiling widely all day long. He made pancakes that morning, packed her a lunch, and even bought a bouquet of bright, sunny-colored buttercups in a hand-painted vase.

It was a great beginning to a fabulous birthday, if she ever had one.

She went into work only briefly, sorting through piles of new cases and doing some research minimally. She was slightly distracted by the anticipation. She had never had a real birthday. The only thing that came close was her last one, when she had had a small cupcake and a tiny boy knock at her door.

What a difference a year made.

She left earlier than she had planned, but she knew she had some extra time before Henry left yearbook and before Graham came home. She browsed windows, surprised each time she caught her smiling reflection. She couldn't remember a time she felt so light and happy on her birthday. She stopped in one of the little boutiques, picking up a dress she had passed enough times in the window to actually envy. She even stopped to get a pedicure, something she rarely indulged in.

She came back to the apartment feeling relaxed and comfortable, eager to see her son and live-in boyfriend. She twisted the knob to open to a dark apartment, and had a burst of realization.

It was too cliché. It _had_ to have been Graham's idea.

She sighed, dropping her purse and bags to the side. "Okay, where are all of you?" she asked with an eyeroll, hands on her hips.

At that, the lights did indeed click on, a verifiable crowd in the room exclaiming a loud, "surprise!"

She laughed out loud, finding Graham's twinkling eyes amidst the crowd. Henry reached her first, hugging her around the waist. "Were you surprised, Mom?"

"Very. Thank you, Henry," she replied, brushing her hands through his hair.

Graham reached her next, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips. "Too much?" he asked softly.

She shook her head. "No. Thank you, really. I've never—" she cut herself off, feeling a build of tears form behind her eyes that was so sudden it even caught _her_ off guard. "Thank you."

"Don't let him get all the credit!" Gia declared, popping up to hold her face. "And besides, he still has to outdo my party last year."

She smiled tightly. Of course, she did remember Gia giving her a twenty-eighth birthday party, with a fancy dinner and lots of wine and great friends. But at the same time, she remembers a cold and lonely Boston apartment, and a single blue candle. Graham seemed to recognize the turn of her thoughts as he squeezed her upper arms.

"Well, it's not going to top anything without some champagne for the birthday girl," he professed, tugging her along to the table. It was filled with bottles of wine and champagne, canapés, and the biggest cake she's ever seen for an adult. "More food, don't worry," he murmured with a grin. He handed her a glass, then turned her toward the group.

She stood awkwardly, looking over at all the friends she had made in New York. Andie and Leo, cuddling in a corner and pretending not to. Gia, Emilia, and Ritu with their partners, their kids with Henry on the other side. Garcia, Lazo, Richards, and even Assistant Chief Miller grinning in plainclothes that looked alien on the detectives.

She raised her glass and took a sip over the rapidly forming lump in her throat. It didn't often strike her, the differences between her first life and the one she made in New York. But this was almost too much. It wasn't real, but it _was_. These people weren't just made up lives that were built to care about her; she could still talk to them about real things and they will listen and pay attention, but will also have their own problems and screw up and be nice and funny and rude and short and just … real.

Graham's hand found hers and she looked up at his grinning face fondly. He's her touchstone; him and Henry. They were reminders that _both_ lives were real, no matter what.

"I love you," she whispered below the din of everyone talking.

He looked down at her, his gaze softening. "I love you so much, Emma."

"Birthday girl kiss!" a new voice cut in, weaving through the crowd to plant a loud kiss on Emma's cheek. She pulled back, and Emma's eyes widened.

"Maggie, what are you doing here?" she asked. Maggie had been a friend from her Boston memories, before she moved to New York two years ago.

"I couldn't miss out on meeting this one," she said fondly, pointing to Graham. She grabbed her elbow. "Excuse me, boyfriend, need to catch up with my girl, here!"

"I thought the point was meeting the boyfriend?" Emma pointed out.

She waved her hand. "What do you think I've been doing the past hour waiting for your lazy ass?" She pulled on her harder.

"Have fun," Graham said with a bemused smile, turning back to the table with a shake of his head.

"Maggie," Emma started, than couldn't help the giggle that escaped her. Her memories of the girl were _full_ of laughter and good times.

"God, girl, now I know why you haven't been back to Boston! I can't believe you thought you could keep a man like that to yourself," she admonished with a bright grin that split her ebony face. "He is gorgeous, hon."

Emma sneaked a look back at Graham, who was currently showing Henry and Michael how to properly swirl their grape juice in the wine goblets. "That's me. Keeping attractive men I'm dating away from your bad influence."

"I'm an excellent influence. Just ask Henry," she sniffed, picking up her glass delicately. "Now, tell me: it looks serious. Is it serious?"

Emma looked away, pulling on the ties of her bracelet. "Yeah. Yeah, it's serious."

Maggie nodded. "Thought as much just talking with him. So, when do I have to buy my plane ticket for the wedding? Those things get expensive last minute."

"Mags!" she exclaimed, feeling the heat pool in her belly. The thought didn't seize her up, though, she found. Not like last month. "I—you know me," she finished lamely.

Maggie tossed back her hair. "Yeah, I know you. That's why I'm asking. I've never seen you like this with a guy. And the way he's into you _and_ Henry? Keeper written all through him, babe."

She didn't get a chance to respond as Andie pulled her in for a hug. "No hogging the birthday girl," she exclaimed, her voice tinged with just the barest hint of drunkenness. "We're supposed to be talking super pretentious things and then once the kids get bored and go next door, play Cards Against Humanity and get you plenty drunk."

"I like her," Maggie said, eyes shining.

"Straight _and_ married," Emma pointed out.

She twisted to look at her. "And? I can still like her."

"She sure can!" Andie cried back, not noticing how her husband's eyes widened as she threw her arms around the taller girl.

"Well, that settles that. Are we eating?" Emma asked.

"We were talking about Graham and Emma's wedding plans," Maggie said, ignoring her completely.

Andie squealed while Leo only smirked. "Real or figurative? Because I've started down the figurative with them."

"We'll see. But I want to hear about these plans," Maggie said, wrapping an arm around Andie and directing her to the drink table.

Leo knocked her shoulder. "I'm not sure if you two are going to walk down the aisle or be dragged attached to those two," he teased.

"Emma doesn't get dragged by anyone," Graham cut in, tucking his chin onto her shoulder.

"I believe that. And no one will have to drag _you_ to marry this one," he replied and then walked off toward the liquor.

"Sorry," he murmured into the skin of her shoulder.

She shook her head, nudging his head with hers. "No, it's okay. It's kinda nice to have, you know, _friends_ speculating on this sort of thing."

Slowly, a smile crossed his face. "Yeah, it really is."

She took a moment to consider the fact that he, too, never had friends before. This curse … it had its downsides, to be sure. But there were a lot of good things to even it out. "Would you … would you ever consider—"

"Your glass is empty!" Emilia broke in, using a bottle to pour another glassful. "Sweetheart, I know you like him, but you should not be in the corner with your boyfriend all night. Come, join the party!"

She let herself be dragged into the crowd, and didn't let the notion enter her head any longer.

It was only the morning after, when she laid half on top of his chest, her head pounding from a hangover, that she realized that she would be perfectly content waking up like this _every_ morning if it meant being in his arms.

She doesn't bring it up again.

XX

She thought about it briefly on a trip up to Hewitt.

They had found the jumper quickly, dropped him off with local police, and then decided to stay an extra day. He had spent time explaining how it used to be, in the other world. They had gone exploring in the forest under her suggestion, wanting a visual of what he was expressing. Something about being out there, though, ignited their blood and they didn't talk for long.

Later, she was lying on top of him in the middle of the woods, breathing him in. His hands were threaded in her hair, brushing them down in long sweeps. She felt safe in his arms.

It felt perfect.

Of course, feeling perfect sent warning signs all through Emma. She didn't believe in perfect, or at least didn't believe in perfect _lasting_. But he kissed her brow and held her tighter and she could forget her worries for a second.

She briefly wondered about asking him to marry her right then and there, so that feeling would last longer.

She let the moment pass by.

XX

It's a long time before the subject is broached again.

It was the day after they told Henry and two days after she told Graham about the baby. It was a lazy Sunday, intimate and calm. Dishes were stacked high in the sink to be tended to at a later date, the smell of chocolate and bacon still lingering in the air. Graham laid behind her with his arm draped protectively over her stomach, swirling soothing circles over where their child lay.

Henry's flicking channels absently, but she could tell his heart was not really into it. "So, the baby's due in August?"

She nodded, leaning up to see his face a little more clearly. "Doctor says August 20th. We've definitely got some time to prepare."

Henry dropped the remote, looking thoughtful. "At least you have memories of raising me, so you're not going in blind."

Her heart plummets. "Henry—"

"No, it's okay. I didn't mean it like that. I just … this is good. It feels right," Henry clarified. "It's real, too, right?"

Emma swallowed at hearing their mantra. "Right," she agreed tentatively. There were some things she definitely thought was real in this life, but somehow claiming Henry didn't feel _as_ real. Not when she knew another side to it. She thought it was mostly her concern about how Henry thought of it all.

"You and me, kid, we're going to have to learn. You'll help me out, right?" Graham asked, his palm flattening against her belly comfortingly.

He grinned, and it mollified some of Emma's worries. "Right. Glad I won't be the only amateur."

"I'm not exactly a professional," Emma grumbled, shifting against Graham.

Henry sniggered. "Yeah, I guess it has been twelve years now."

"Or half a year, depending on your understanding of the space-time continuum," Graham replied dryly.

Henry groaned, tossing a hand over his eyes. "Yeah, whatever." He looked up. "Y'know, I know I've said it before, but ... it's really cool getting to know you this way, Graham. I mean, I've _always_ known you. But this is cool."

Graham's eyes softened. "Likewise, Henry. It wasn't quite the same back them, was it?"

Emma worried her lip a little. They had both told her before how it was growing up in Storybrooke. How Graham had been the closest thing Henry had to a father figure until his therapy sessions, but even then he had to keep his distance. A few discreet school projects together, a few talks after tracking him down when he would run away … it wasn't the same with Regina isolating him. Now, her two men were actually able to interact on a level that tugged on her heart each time she saw them.

"No, it wasn't. I wish it could've been different," Henry murmured.

When they settled into bed that night, Graham looked more pensive than usual. He lowered his head onto her stomach, making hieroglyphics on her skin. She pulled her fingers through the strands of his curly hair, watching them bounce into place, relaxing in others. His breath alternated between hot and cool against her belly, stirring her hormones even as she attempted to tamp them down. They really had things to talk about.

"Do you ever think about the legal side, Graham?" she asked tentatively.

"I want to adopt Henry," he replied in a whoosh.

She stilled. He took a shaky breath, turning to meet her eye. "You want to adopt him?" she asked curiously.

He nodded seriously, his eyes shading. "I mean … I know he has his father. But not here. Everyone we knew from before is in a place we'll never see again. And … and I really want to be his father," he admitted.

Her eyes filled with tears, her palm cupping his jaw lovingly. "I would love that, Graham. But it's not just up to me."

"Of course not. I'd want his permission. But … but you wouldn't mind?" he asked timidly.

She shook her head, leaning up to pull him close. "Not at all. We're a family already. You, me, Henry, the baby … we're _all_ a family. And if you want to officially make Henry your son as well, then there is no argument from me."

He shuddered into her skin, arms surrounding her. "Thank you," he said, kissing her shoulder. Then, he leaned forward, grabbing something from a drawer.

"I know it might be too soon," he began, opening a small box. She couldn't help a sharp inhale as she saw a small velvet box fall out into his hand. "But know I have these when you're ready."

She watched, hypnotized, as he opened it. Inside lied two rings, nestled next to one another. Each were platinum and simple, one delicate to the other's thick. He grabbed her hand and she let him have it. He kissed her wrist lovingly before pulling the thinner one out.

"It's nothing flashy. I know you wouldn't want that." He picked it up and angled it for her to see the engraving around the inside, a simple heart in its center. He slipped it onto her finger, where it fit snugly. "But it's yours, whenever you're ready."

She felt the sob build within her chest as she looked at the band. In her first life, she had _never_ thought about this. She never imagined that after a little over six months in a relationship that she'd even be considering it. Now, she couldn't wait for that band to find permanent residence on her finger, and the same with the matching band on his. "Well, it'll be easier for you to adopt him," she said hoarsely.

He frowned. "That didn't sound like a real yes. We don't have to be married for me to adopt him."

She smiled. "Yeah, I actually think we do. But it's not because of that, Graham. And it's not because of the new kid," she swore, pulling her arms around his shoulders. "It's because I love you. Legally or not, I love you. So let's just make it official."

"Officially?"

She huffed a dramatic sigh. "I guess I really, really want to marry you, Graham Humbert."

He grinned, leaning his head against hers. "Good. Because I really, really want to marry you, Emma Swan."


	9. Chapter 9

**Mary Margaret**: Thank you! lmao! His name is Leo Simmons, actually. And yes, his name is an amalgam of Fitzsimmons (because they are fluffy-sweet Shield babies). Just a little easter egg, nothing actually involving those characters.

**BossLady**: Thank you! Yeah, this is delving a lot more into their interactions with their NY friends, so I hope you enjoy!

**Gremma Shoelace**: Thank you so much, sweetie! Prompts are added to the list!

* * *

**Title**: Plans for Home

**Summary**: Emma and Graham's friends are determined to be sure their wedding is perfect.

**Note**: Prompted from Guest - where they get married. This really got away from me, but I wanted this to show just how tempting for Emma it would be to stay in NYC; this is where she feels accepted, comfortable, and loved. It has to be a real choice, once she gets to SB, and this shows why that choice will be painful either way.

Gifset (with gif credits) linked in profile.

* * *

On Tuesday, Emma stomped into the bar on 84th.

She zeroed in on Andie, who was leaning against the back of the bar, her attention on her phone. It was only three in the afternoon, after all, so there weren't many patrons. Emma scrapped out a stool noisily.

Andie looked up, smirking slightly before tucking the cell into her back pocket. "Well, good afternoon. You missed the drama this weekend."

"Drama?" Emma asked, shrugging out of her coat.

Andie's tongue clicked. "You know the normal. Someone made some snarky comment about mail-order brides in front of my short-tempered husband. He spent the rest of the weekend making sure to cite him for any little thing he could. Littering. Jay Walking. Breathing too hard near a playground, I don't know."

Emma shook her head. Andie Simmons née Nguyen was a full sixteen years younger than her husband, and born to liberal Vietnamese parents to Leo's English/Italian-Catholic. They certainly had an unconventional relationship despite these facts, but they deeply cared for one another, fitting like two people married and in love should. "People are idiots," Emma said succinctly. "You okay?"

"Me?" Andie asked incredulously. "Please. First of all, people talking out of their ass is nothing new. And second of all, there are other things that should bug me more. Like the fact that I fell for a cop and now am stuck with him for life. Didn't even get money out of the deal," she joked.

Emma grimaced. "Yeah, well, still."

Andie shrugged. "It was still fun, in a machismo sort of way, to see Leo defending us like that. Not something I'd like all the time, but could be worse."

Emma gave a half smile. "Some perks to being with a detective, right?"

"Don't you know it!" the brunette declared with a quick grin.

Emma chewed absently on her lip, readying herself for the change in topic. "What are you doing Friday?"

"Leo and I were talking about seeing Cap. Why, you want in?" she asked, automatically grabbing a glass from the clean stack.

"I have something else in mind and was wondering if you and Simmons want in," Emma replied, picking up a coaster to fiddle with nervously.

"I don't know. I really wanna see Cap. It's supposed to really good," Andie said teasingly, filling the mug with the beer on tap. She put it in front of Emma before tapping her finger to her chin in mock consideration.

Emma pushed away the mug. "Thanks, but not drinking," she said.

Andie blinked. She studied her critically, her eyes narrowed. Suddenly, she gasped. "You're pregnant!"

Emma pulled her hands through her hair with a laugh. She should have known Andie would realize right away. "Yeah, kinda am."

"You idiot! You have me rambling on about old news while holding onto this gem!" she admonished, walking around the bar to enfold her in an embrace.

Emma chuckled, pulling back. "It's not like there's suddenly going to be a baby tomorrow."

Andie scoffed and swatted at her. "No, you have to tell me immediately so I can get to teasing you and Humbert about it all the time. Don't make me miss those precious moments!"

Emma rolled her eyes. "So, Friday?"

Her nose wrinkled. "Friday, what's Friday? You gonna carry to term in four days?"

She shook her head. "Nah, I was thinking about adding a hyphen to my last name then."

Andie's jaw dropped. "Seriously?"

Emma swallowed and nodded. It was still big and scary, in some ways. Her stomach flew with anticipation at the thought, even though something else felt warmed and comforted by the notion. Being married was not a huge step, in the long run, since both she and Graham knew exactly what it was to be apart and wanted nothing of that again. Still, the title of "husband" and "wife" seemed weighty, even weightier than, say, "mom."

She shook out of her thoughts and smiled at her friend. "Yeah. Already called Maggie in. I'm going to tell the rest of the girls tonight, but I knew you were working. Graham's telling the office right about now."

Her dark eyes tightened as she considered her. "Emma, you're not doing this just because you're pregnant, right? I mean, I know you love him and all, but Leo loved Jess at one point and now they're at each other's throats all the time and –"

"No," Emma cut off, shaking her head. Her mind immediately flashed over Simmons and his ex-wife fitfully arguing in front of the principal's office one time she had picked up Henry. She thinks that would never be her, until she reminded herself that it _may_ have been had Neal stuck around. "No, not just because of the kid. Admittedly, it'll be easier for him to adopt Henry, but … but I really want this, Andie."

It surprised her how much she did. It was nothing more than a formality, but for the little girl that had spent a lifetime in foster care and an adult woman who'd wandered around in self-imposed loneliness … the idea of a wedding and a certificate and a ring seemed normal and _right_.

Andie stared at her a few more moments before a smile stretched across her face. "Then consider me there. Are you doing religious? Wait … park ceremony?"

Emma cut her off before any more guesses came forward. "No, no, we're just doing City Clerk's Office."

Andie wrinkled her nose. "But party after, right?"

Emma snorted. "Yeah, we'll figure something out."

She nodded. "You're right. Gia wouldn't stand for nothing happening. I'm sure she'll have the Plaza or something booked up just for you," she said with a playful roll of her eyes. "But bachelorette party here on Thursday."

Emma held back a laugh, putting her face in her hands. "I can't drink."

Andie smirked. "Doesn't mean _we_ can't."

XX

"You guys are _ridiculous_," Emilia said, mouth parted. "You don't mess around!"

Ritu laughed, pouring her glass full of wine before passing off the bottle. "I knew it. I knew it as soon as I caught you guys in the hallway that day. You may move at the speed of light, but you burn just as brightly." Her hazel eyes were twinkling merrily as she sipped from her glass.

"Says the girl who got married five days after meeting her husband," Emilia cackled back, then nudged Gia. "Miss Three-Marriages, give her some advice."

"Me?" Gia asked, eyes widening innocently. "Why, I think marriage is fantastic, obviously," she said with a wicked grin.

Emma rolled back her head, sighing. "And are you trying to talk me out of this or saying I'm doing the right thing?" she asked.

"My vote's on right thing. New kid or no, you guys have been headed down this path since day one. I thought I was going to have to smack you in the head a few times to get it down, so _kudos_ baby Humbert," Ritu teased.

"Amen, Amen!" Gia said. "Don't take my track record for it. Lots of people get it right on the first time, I just wasn't one of them."

Emilia raised her glass to her lips, her eyes twinkling. "Same. I might have been in on some planning details with our lovely Andie for the past three months, you know."

Emma couldn't help laughing as she pressed the glass of water to her head. "I really didn't expect it to go this fast. But it feels like the right time," she admitted.

"Good," Gia nodded, pulling out her phone. "Even though you're not making this easy on me, I will find you somewhere fabulous to celebrate after. Really, hon, you couldn't have given me more than four days to plan?" she asked in a huff.

"Did I say I need somewhere fabulous?" Emma asked, arching her brow. She had already known that protesting a reception in general would not be possible, not with all the friends they had accumulated that had been rooting them on since before they began. But she and Graham didn't need anything fancy, and she dreaded hearing something like Ballroom or Palatial or Michelin-starred at the end of whatever she was thinking.

"You don't ask Gia for these things, darling, they just happen," Ritu mock whispered to her.

"Wait, wait, wait, Lee just texted. Someone cancelled a venue and it is perfect," Gia spoke up, a smile pleasantly on her lips. She turned the phone pridefully.

Emma had to admit, as she swiped through pictures, that while more opulent than her tastes, it was a fantastic location. She nodded. "Gia … how much?"

She waved her hand. "Please, please! I married Georg for a reason, sweets."

Emma shook her head. "This is our wedding and we'll pay for it."

"And Graham works for the city and your pay is dependent on delivery. Please, call it my wedding gift. I promise I won't buy you anything else," she said, crossing her heart. Then she grinned. "Until the baby shower."

"Best to agree now or she'll just buy you something ridiculous later," Emilia said dryly. She pointed at the brunette. "Or don't you think I remember the crystal duck?"

Gia looked surprised. "You mean you don't have use for a crystal duck?"

"Fine! Just no other gifts," Emma grumbled. How much could the place be?

XX

She made it home exhausted, her sides hurting from laughing much too hard and her stomach too full. She was grateful she wasn't yet at the stage of morning sickness, or she'd have paid for every morsel she consumed. She came through the door sluggishly, kicking off her heels immediately. She reached down to rub her feet before clicking on the foyer light.

The soft glow of the DVD menu cast upon her boys, passed out in front of the screen. Her face relaxed as she looked at them, heads on opposite arms but the same sofa, a bowl of half-eaten popcorn tipping precariously between them.

She picked up the remote and clicked off the TV, sighing as she grabbed the throw blanket to toss over the two. She nearly let out a yelp when she felt a hand on her wrist, before looking over to see Graham blinking owlishly at her.

"Fun?" he asked in a slur of sleep as he sat up.

She nodded, pressing her forehead against his. "Yeah. Gia's found a place to have the reception."

He chuckled warmly, the sound reverberating in her chest. "Unsurprised. Good place?"

She hesitated a moment and then shrugged. "It's a little much, but with Gia, it could have been worse."

Graham's eyes turned serious, and he pulled a hand through her hair. His eyes lightened suddenly, a smile tweaking his lips. "A little luxury is okay. I'm marrying a princess, after all."

She scoffed, rolling her head onto his shoulder. "Does that make you my prince consort?"

Graham cocked his head to the side. "Is that how it works?"

She shrugged, pressing her lips against his gently. "No exactly sure. I was never paid much attention in History, much less read up on monarchies."

His kiss lingered more than she had anticipated, and she leaned into it. "Maybe we should just stick with 'husband' and 'wife,' then?" he asked when they parted.

The butterflies perked up in her stomach again, and she smiled widely. "Yeah, that'll work."

"_She'll_ be princess," he said with a teasing smile, his hand flattening over her tummy.

She rolled her eyes. "Or prince. Let's figure out what it is before we start giving it titles, okay?"

XX

Thursday morning brought Maggie to JFK.

Emma and Henry waited in bag claim, watching the parole officer weave through the crowds before sweeping them both into a big hug.

"My loves!" she exclaimed, kissing Henry on the crown of his head before pulling back and scowling at him. "You, sir, are getting too tall. Emma, why aren't you stunting his growth?"

"I tried," she said sardonically. "He grew two more inches."

Maggie clicked her tongue. "Well, at least the littlest munchkin will take some time before getting that big," she countered. She held her hands wide, hovering a couple inches over Emma's stomach. "So, this is going to expand, huh?"

"That's what I hear," Emma replied.

"But you were supposed to give me more notice. You're lucky I got discount last-minute fares."

"You never plan anyway," Henry piped up.

Maggie narrowed her eyes and then broke out in a grin. "That's my boy," she said, hooking her arm around him.

"Are you going to come back more? Now that mom's pregnant?" he asked, bouncing on his toes.

She had to admit, for all the news that they'd dropped on Henry, he was taking it all in very well. His reaction to the proposal had been enthusiastic, and they'd had a long talk about it. Henry had only expressed his happiness that they get to be together, all in one, and that the wedding just seemed like a fun add-in.

They've only tentatively broached the subject of adoption, dancing around it to get an idea of Henry's feel for it. So far, he seemed favorable to the idea. Graham wanted to wait until after the wedding until he formally asked him, though.

Maggie's face fell almost imperceptibly. "Got a few parolee's that would take offense to it, I think. Sorry, hon. But I'll come out for the big stuff."

"Tell me you didn't actually plan out a wedding with Andie last time," Emma said, changing the subject quickly.

Maggie narrowed her eyes. "Who do you think I am?"

"A meddler," Emma replied.

She shrugged. "At least I own up to it. C'mon, I found a dress online and they're holding it at the store. You'll love it."

Emma groaned, and even Henry looked bemused.

But an hour later, Emma was wearing a short, flared off-white dress with a half-mesh back. A rack of dresses she herself had picked were on the bar, waiting to be tried on. But the dress she wore made her stand straighter, tilting her head to look at it from other angles.

"Dammit," Emma said as she exited the dressing room. She stood in front of the mirror, seeing how it skimmed across her figure, the lightweight material swaying as she moved. "Dammit, dammit."

Henry popped up behind her in the mirror. "It's really great, mom. It looks like you."

She nodded, huffing as she fingered the soft fabric. "I hate you for knowing me so well, Mags."

"You love it," she insisted, coming forward. She grabbed her hair and twisted it back. "Now, imagine a braided bun. No veil, light makeup, flat sandals. Casual, but formal enough for pictures and all that. Elegant but comfortable. Chic but … well, you get the idea."

Emma felt annoying tears prickle as she cursed either the hormones or how she had friends that actually knew her and her taste in this timeline. She didn't want a full wedding dress, with yards of silks or satins and a long veil or tiara gracing the top of her head. She just couldn't picture standing next to Graham in something like that. This, though, with its understated elegance and nontraditional style with a little something extra ….

She sniffed, looking away. "Yeah, I guess that'll work," she murmured, turning back into the dressing room.

"Shut up with the tears, now! We have lots of work to do before tonight."

XX

"To Emma, on her last night as a free woman!"

A whoop went through the air, and Emma tipped forward, laughing as Emilia pinned a "bachelorette" badge on her blouse and donned a sparkly-pink lei over her head.

"C'mon, c'mon, we must embarrass you all night!" Andie cried, grabbing her arm as she bounced excitedly.

Emma groaned as the cake came into view. "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously!" Gia said, lighting the last Pecker Candle on the obscenely shaped confection. She grinned wickedly. "Were we approximate, darling?"

Emma narrowed her eyes playfully. She leaned forward. "Am I just supposed to –"

"Blow!" came the reply from the group of women.

Emma giggled and did as instructed, to the raucous applause of the entire bar. Ritu came forward with a different batch of themed food, and Emma threw her head back. "I am too sober for this!" she bemoaned.

"Nonsense!" Maggie declared. "Besides, your own damn fault. You and that soon-to-be hubby of yours. Not that I can really blame you, but you had to go and fu—"

"Shh, tiny virgin ears!" Andie scolded, holding her hand in front of Emma's stomach protectively. "He can hear you!"

Emma swatted her away. "I don't think it even has ears at this point, but thanks for defending the kid's honor and not mine," she replied wryly.

"Anytime," she said with a grin.

"C'mon," Gia said, her eyes twinkling. She placed a flute of sparkling cider in her hand. "We got some party games for you."

"Why am I scared?" Emma said pointedly.

"Because you're a very smart girl," Emilia replied with a wink.

XX

Emma arrived home in the wee hours, feeling thoroughly tired. Late nights were now a little harder to manage with the new thing she was carrying around. She was covered in lipstick marks, leis, phallic-shaped candies, and was pretty sure her shirt was ruined by chocolate, fizzy virgin drinks, and confectioner's sugar.

She exited the elevator, finding Graham fumbling with his key in front of the apartment.

"Henry still at Avery's?" she asked, coming to wrap her arms around the back of him.

She can almost feel his answering smile, even though she can't see his face. The door opened and he turned, fully engulfing her in his arms. "Yeah, he's staying there until tomorrow. Aamer's watching them, however begrudgingly. Tomorrow, I'll go over there and get ready at Ritu and Sam's, since Maggie already said you guys are taking over the apartment."

She hummed her acknowledgement. "You don't smell like whiskey," she commented, pressing her face into his shirt. Instead, he smelled like barbeque, and she inhaled deeper. She had expected him to come home reeking of liquor after Simmons and the rest had taken him out. The guys liked to get rowdy in groups.

"Didn't want to drink if you couldn't," he replied simply, cupping her face to bring their lips together.

Silly man and his silly, honorable decisions. "You know I wouldn't have minded."

"It wouldn't be fair," he replied stubbornly. Then he grinned. "But does that mean I don't have to give up coffee?"

She sighed. "We'll see," she said mournfully. It was the one thing she'd really miss the next eight months.

He closed his eyes, nudging her nose. "If it makes it easier, I'll give it up, too," he vowed.

"I love you," she murmured against his lips.

"I love you, too," he said, sealing them once again.

"We're getting married today," she said as they parted.

He grinned. "Yeah. We really are. Fourteen hours."

"And a lot of that will be sleeping and getting ready. So, not much time to get in some taboo premarital relations," Emma said with a coy grin, unzipping her blouse as she stepped into the apartment.

His answering growl was not altogether surprising.

XX

"You look great, mom."

She looked up, catching Henry's eye in the mirror and smiled. Andie was behind her, her hands still working on the braided updo her hair was to be styled into. "Thank you, kid. You're still not dressed."

He shrugged, leaning against the doorway. "Not yet. I don't need much time."

"True," she acquiesced, hooking a hoop into her ear before she looked back up. "Sick of hanging out with the guys?" she asked.

"Not exactly. Just wanted to see you."

"Little twerp's just trying to get gossip to bring over to the guys," Maggie said, ruffling his hair with a playful wrinkling of her nose. "He's a spy!"

"Oh, no," Andie said and then rattled something off in Vietnamese that she didn't bother to explain.

Emma looked up, her brow furrowing as she noticed that the display had barely lifted a chuckle out of her son. "Break time," she declared, stepping up.

"What? I'm not finished!" Andie said with a pout.

"Yeah, well, need a sec. Pregnant bride is always right," Emma said. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and guided him out onto the balcony. Once the door was shut, she turned to him. "What's really up, kid?"

Henry shuffled his feet a moment before leaning his hands against the railing. "Do you miss grandma and grandpa?"

It felt like a sucker punch. The wind knocked out of her in a whoosh, a cold grip deep inside her.

Henry looked up, noticing her pallor. "I'm sorry, shouldn't have brought it up," he muttered, kicking his toe against the stone.

"No," she said quickly, shaking her head. "No, don't feel like you have to censor yourself around me."

He offered a smile and a shrug. "Just … I dunno. Something I was thinking about when Damon and Matt were talking about their grandparents coming for when Gia married Georg. They were complaining about having them over … but –"

"But you miss Mary Margaret and David," Emma finished simply.

Henry nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"It's okay. I … I do, too. I really do. Especially now," Emma admitted, walking to the edge near him. It hurt to admit, the pang of missing them suddenly split wide into a searing wound, one she hadn't realized still stung so deeply.

Henry leaned his head on her shoulder. "But this is real, too, right? Us?"

She kissed his brow. "_Always_. You, me, Graham, this thing," she gestured to her middle, and Henry was quick to cover it with his hand. She grinned, before sobering. "We'll always miss them. But at least we've got each other."

He was silent a long moment, but comfortably. "Graham wants to adopt me, doesn't he?"

She huffed a chuckle. "Figured it out, huh? No one's going to make you agree. He won't do it if you don't want it." She wrung her hands a little and then rested them on his shoulders. "It is _absolutely_ your decision. And he'll ask you formally next week, once things are settled down. You can think about it all you want; there's no rush."

Henry quirked a smile. "Thanks. I _will_ think about it."

"That's all I can ask," she said, bumping his shoulder with hers. "Sorry our lives are so complicated, kid."

He looked up, bewildered. "Think this is complicated? You should hear Aamer and Avery talk."

She grinned.

XX

She leaned down to fix her heel, and then swallowed back a churn of nausea. "Damn," she murmured. It looked like her luck had run out in regards to her symptoms. She refused to acknowledge that it could be nervousness; it was _just_ a formality.

She turned the corner, and knew the exact moment Graham found her. His jaw slackened, his eyes widened, and he rose slowly, taking her in.

"Approval?" she asked as she got closer.

He took her left hand and brought it up to his lips, a kiss along her palm. "Still the shoelace, huh?" he breathed, rolling his thumb just underneath it.

"It's important," she said stubbornly. "Consider it my 'something old.'"

He pulled her closer, swaying them slightly. "You are beautiful. Always. But something about today …."

She laughed. "Is this going to be a 'bride' comment or a 'glow' comment?"

He shrugged. "A 'happy' comment. I love you."

"Good," she said. "'Cause we're about to say that for life, so …."

He grinned. "Can't wait."

She pressed a kiss to his jaw. "Me neither. You don't look too bad yourself, Humbert," she teased. He looked great, actually. She missed a little stubble on his jaw, but his eyes were shining brightly as he looked at her. She realized they _both_ looked so happy.

"You ready for this?" he asked.

She opened her mouth, then frowned. "Wait, ditch the jacket. You're uncomfortable."

His eyes sparked with surprise before he shrugged out of it. She smiled serenely to see him in a waistcoat, a memory of his old outfits in Storybrooke resurfacing. "How'd you know?" he asked.

She narrowed her eyes. "I knew when you were uncomfortable in Storybrooke," she taunted, twisting his words back. "Gia made you, didn't she?"

"Simmons, actually." He trailed a hand down her arm before taking it in his. "Said I looked too casual without it."

"Please. We're not exactly doing this traditionally," she snorted, holding her hand over her stomach.

"Maybe at the coronation ceremony," he teased back.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure. You're lucky you're so cute, buddy."

"Cute?" he asked with a wince.

She pretended to study him. "Yeah, guess so. Wanna get married?"

He sighed, hiding a grin. "If you say so."

XX

The ceremony in itself was more of a blur. It's benign, to the point, and very succinct.

Emma didn't care about the words pouring from the officiant's mouth.

She cared about Graham's eyes, steady on hers. She cared about Henry grinning like a madman, proudly holding out the rings when it's time. She cared about her friends and coworkers, delighting in their pronouncement. She cared about the barest touch he gives her stomach before sealing their lips.

She cared about the meaning behind it all.

This, all these people, every last one: from Graham and Henry all the way down to sullen-looking Chief Miller … this was family.

This was _home_.


	10. Chapter 10

Guest Comments

**Guest (x2): **First of all, hello! Welcome to the story. I feel like I went into the details of why Henry feels that way about Regina in that chapter, but let me try to clarify a little. Henry has lived the past year with Graham and Emma and a whole huge group of friends that are like family. He has lived the past year knowing what his childhood would have been like had Emma raised him: not isolated, participating in decisions relating to their family, being listened to, and genuinely being loved by someone not with a "hole in [their] heart." He also knows without a doubt that Regina killed Graham the same day they spoke to one another about the curse; he has proof of what Regina did to the man he now considers his father. Thus, Henry's feelings are very conflicted and he doesn't want to interact with his former adoptive mother right now. I hope this makes sense. I also think you need to rewatch the scene where Emma gave up Henry (not abandoned; that really is an anti-adoption view, since she did all she could to make sure he was happy and healthy), because the pain on her face shows it all. She was in jail, jobless, and poor, and in believing she couldn't give her child a good home, chose a closed adoption for his best chance. This is not abandonment at all. :)

* * *

**Title**: A Long Way From Before

**Summary**: Telling Henry he'll be a big brother.

**Note**: Prompted from the anon verse creator (the original prompter for this story). Also, I wrote an M rated piece in connection with this story titled "Past, Present, and Future" that I didn't include here so not to isolate my readers that are underage. You can find it on my author's page! Both pieces were written for the Gremma Appreciation Week now happening on Tumblr (link on author's page).

* * *

Emma woke to the sound of her phone ringing.

She groaned, lifting a hand to cover her eyes before rolling to the side. She hadn't gotten a fantastic amount of sleep the night before, finally retreating into exhaustion curled in her boyfriend's embrace sometime in the wee hours of the morning. It was still far too early for a weekend morning to be conscious, though Emma suspected it was after eleven.

Graham mumbled something half in sleep before waking with a sigh beside her. She grabbed the phone off the nightstand and warmed considerably to see "Kid" on the screen.

"Morning. You ready to come home?" she asked, sleep slurring her words just a bit.

Graham slid from the bed, brushing his hand over her stomach briefly before gesturing to the kitchen. She smiled in response, resting her palm over where his had been before refocusing on the call.

"_Yeah. We finished up all we can do for now. I'll be over once I'm done with breakfast_."

"You can eat here. Graham's about to cook," she offered, rising finally from the warmth of the sheets.

"_Nah, Ritu made crepes. Be home soon_!"

The phone clicked off and Emma grimaced. Well, there goes the plan of telling him over breakfast. She leaned back against the pillows, trying hard not to let the stone in her throat well up. She was worrying hard over that particular detail, the thoughts of Henry's reaction creating dizzying scenarios in her head. But … Graham was happy. And she was happy. She hadn't planned for it, but the addition of another person into their neat little family was so _exhilarating_.

She combed through her curls with tired fingers and padded into the kitchen. Graham was already at the counter, whisking eggs. His pajama pants were low on his waist, hair in wild tangles on his head. She grinned at the sight before wrapping her arms around his back, pressing her lips on the warm skin of his back.

"Should I make pancakes, too?" he asked, not missing a beat as he turned to pull her to his side.

"No, Henry's eating at Ritu and Sam's. Just us two eating this morning," she replied.

She could see a grin peek around his lips. "Three, technically," he said.

She scoffed, pulling out of his embrace to grab plates from the cabinets. "The new kid doesn't have much of an appetite yet in his microscopic stomach."

He yanked her back, tucking his chin onto her neck before pressing a kiss there. "Have I mentioned how happy I am?" he murmured, his hands stretching across her abdomen.

She shivered, the contented caress of his words making her heart race a little in response. "Maybe a time or two," she said nonchalantly. Then she rested her forehead against his. "Me, too, you know."

"When are we going to let Henry know?" he asked. Something flicked behind his features, a wistfulness that seemed alien to the situation.

"Maybe a late lunch? We can all go out, or even just order a pizza or something and stay in. We can talk about it more privately here."

"How's your energy?" he asked, a tight pulling of his eyebrows showing he really was worried, not joking around for once.

She shook her head; the lethargy was still there, hazing behind her eyes, but it wasn't anything too major. By this time with Henry, she had been a lot worse off. "Not a big deal. I can push through this."

"Still, I think staying in will be better," he murmured.

She raised a brow. "You're not going to start treating me like glass, are you?" she asked pointedly.

He grinned, leaning down to touch her nose with his briefly. "Wouldn't think of it. But I don't want to push you too hard, either."

"I'll let you know when I'm pushed too hard. Promise: I won't try to fake feeling well," she swore.

He narrowed his eyes to consider her statement before he shrugged. "Fair enough. But I'll be watching you, princess."

She rolled her eyes. "Just make the frittata, buddy."

He grinned and moved to the refrigerator to rummage up a few more items, then flicked on the stereo as he passed back to the countertop. She huffed a scoff at the beginning strains of the peppy song playing, even more so when she saw him mouthing the words as he diced.

"Seriously, Graham? You didn't know _Kashmir_, but you know the entire first verse of _Hey Ya?"_

He chuckled. "Hey, this is a classic. They played it at my high school prom."

She set the plates down at the table. "You didn't go to high school."

"Ah," he contradicted, tapping his temple. "Doesn't mean I don't have memories of it."

"Class of '01?" she teased.

She would have graduated in 2003, had she managed to finish out her high school career. As it was, she got her diploma during the first year half-living with Maggie in this set of memories, and passed a GED when she was 20 in the first life. Graham, though, had two sets of cursed memories: one that put them at the same age and the other that only gave him two years on her, instead of the decades she'd rather not consider most of the time.

"Second set. '03. All the best music," he joked, tossing the vegetables in the egg.

"Not exactly the most romantic song. Your poor date," she said with a smirk, folding a couple napkins for the table.

He laughed, pushing the dish in the oven. "We weren't exactly looking for romantic. We all went as a big group, peck on the cheek at the end. And, let's face it, this one's still better than Crazy Town."

She groaned out loud, recalling a high school dance she'd been half-forced to go to and some sweaty guy trying to get her to dance to that ridiculous song. "Fair enough."

"I knew you'd come around." He took her hand, twisting her into his arms.

She hid a smile under a grimace. "What are you doing?"

He grinned, unperturbed by her outward judgment. He raised his brows guilelessly as he swayed them to the music. "Getting you to shake it like a polaroid picture?" he said.

She snorted with laughter, batting him away. It sounded even more ridiculous in that damn brogue. She suspects that accent is why she lets him get away with half of his cheesy one-liners. "Hey, if you're going to be the father of my kid, your taste in music has _got_ to be upgraded."

"You guys wanna have kids?"

She turned sharply, finding her son's wide eyes. His keys were held limply in his hand, backpack dangling from the other limb.

She felt her stomach bottom out, fear paralyzing her in the moment. Her gaze traced Henry's features, for a second seeing the Swans in front of her, their hands crossed over the large bump of Lillian's stomach, of _we just can't take care of two children we hope you understand_.

"Henry," Graham breathed first, clicking off the stereo. He glanced at her worriedly before swallowing. "We were going to talk to you about this later."

He nodded slowly, looking over Emma with some amount of confusion. "Mom, you okay?"

"I—" she began, then heard the crack in her voice. She looked down sharply. She had wanted more preparation than this. She looked back up, trying to manage a smile. "I didn't want you to just walk into this without us discussing it first."

Henry shrugged, letting the backpack drop. "S'okay. I was wondering if you guys were going to think about it at some point."

Emma stepped closer, cautiously. "The thing is, Henry," she paused, taking a breath. "The thing is … we're not just thinking about it. I'm … we're … there's gonna be another kid."

He's silent a long moment. Emma's eyes are focused right on his, and she can feel Graham's warmth appear at her side. It can't negate the chill she has covering her at this moment, though, the hard lump of pain coiling within her. She can't read any of the emotion crossing her son's face and that, more than anything else, concerns her.

Graham crouched down to his eye level and twisted his hands together. "I want you to know that I will do my hardest to make sure it doesn't screw up our dynamics. We all _work_. We want to make sure it _stays_ working," Graham states, his voice forcefully calling to its seriousness.

Henry let out a low breath. "Then mom's right. We really gotta school you in music."

Emma's mouth dropped open, noting only dimly the short burst of laughter from her boyfriend. "You're not mad?" she blurted out.

His face twisted in bewilderment. "Mad? Why would I be mad?"

She bit down on her lip, straightening her spine as she considered it. "Because it's always been just us. And we're just figuring out how to add in Graham."

He shook his head. "No, that's not how it is. In Boston, we had Maggie and Beth and Ryan and even Tom for a while. Here, we've had Ritu and Sam and Avery and even Aamer, Gia and Georg and Matt and Damon, and Emilia and Jason and Michael. At the station we have Simmons and Lazo and Garcia and Richards and Miller …. Mom, we've always had a ton of people with us." His gaze flickered to Graham and he grimaced. "Just not in the other life."

Graham's eyes flash with sympathy, a brief glimpse of sharp empathy. "Yeah, you definitely got more people looking after you this time around."

Henry nodded, a half-smile forming. "You were always around."

Graham grinned back. "Not as much as I wanted to be."

"True," he acquiesced. "Better now."

She blew out a low breath, smoothing her hands down her sides before cupping his face gently with one palm. "But we're not as close with all these people like we all are together. We never had to live with anyone else until Graham."

Henry rolled his eyes. "_Please_. Maggie took over the couch in our first place. She was practically paying rent," Henry said, a grin forming.

She finally managed a small smile, feeling some of the worry shift in her belly. "It'll be a lot to deal with, and not a lot of months to deal with it," she warned.

He shrugged. "It's okay. Seriously. I never would have gotten a sibling in the first life. I kinda like the idea of getting one now." His eyes were focused on her stomach now, and subconsciously she moved to cover it. "Actually, it's really cool. This is our family, and it's getting bigger even after curses and erased memories and everything else. It's like I can't remember when it was just … well, just two people."

Emma's heart twists at that, of the reminder of what her kid's life was growing up in that first life. Their new life hadn't been the easiest, but it definitely worked out for the teenage single mom and her kid. She chanced a look up a Graham, and he immediately pressed her against his side. It almost made her miss the flash of latent pain across his features. "Not two people for sure, now."

Henry smiled. "Yeah," he said, then pressed his hand over hers, where it lingered on her stomach. "Sibling. Kinda weird to think about."

She chuckled. "You got until August to figure it out."

"Good. Hopefully I won't have Summer School again."

She sighed, pulling him to her embrace firmly. He was still a moment before winding his arms around her. An arm snaked out, grabbing Graham from her side to tug into the hug, and he melted into it smoothly.

"See?" Henry said after a moment. "We all fit. Even the newbie."

Emma laughed through her tears.


	11. Chapter 11

Guest Comments

**BossLady**: Thank you so much! I think there was definitely some teasing from Andie, at the very least! I really just like the idea of Henry being so much more stable now than he was in Storybrooke, and how that will effect going back.

**Gremma Shoelace**: Oo, I like it! Will be on the list. I hope you enjoy this one! I promise I will get back to Wilding eventually, but this verse is currently sucking me in!

* * *

**Title**: The More Things Change

**Summary**: Following Changes, Graham and Emma settle into Storybrooke.

**Note**: Prompted from Gremma Shoelace re: the dwarves and Marco finding out, and posted during the Gremma Appreciation Week. We had a huge turn-out for the occasion, see profile for what went on!

* * *

Being back in Storybrooke was a strange thing.

The air was cool, a light mist casting a pale grey over the early dawn of morning. Everything looked just the same: same storefronts, newspaper bins, mailboxes, flower beds, everything. Nothing changes in Storybrooke, and it seemed as if even after the curse broke, reset, and recast that remained true.

Graham tugged a hand through his hair, stepping out from the lobby of Granny's. Hidden in the tucked away corner, Emma stood with her arms crossed in front of her, squinting into the sun. Henry was still asleep, not quite used to waking up before eight during the summer, but Emma had tossed and turned all night.

For once, he knew it had nothing to do with the baby.

He took another glance across the landscape, jaw clenching slightly. He knew it was going to be unsettling, going to this town where he'd spent twenty-eight years in a fog before being murdered. He had thought he'd prepared himself well for it despite this. However, being a newly-resurrected former Black Knight in the eyes of the townsfolk was quite a bit different than just being the husband of the blonde visiting with the Nolans, as he assumed he'd be seen as until the curse broke.

Seeing Granny and Red the night previous had been fine. Red at least knew about his will to keep the Charming family safe while he was in the cage of Regina's castle. The rest could only view him as he had had to portray himself; that was a scary premise.

He sighed, tucking his chin into Emma's neck and splaying his hands wide over her belly. She leaned her head against his.

"You okay?" she murmured gently.

"Yeah. Just … strange," he mumbled. They swayed together, watching the foot traffic from the shade. No one had noticed them quite yet, and he was loath to leave the protective embrace he was giving his wife and child. "Not going to be too many glad to see me back."

She turned her head, confusion written on her features. "You were damn well liked, Graham. I don't think you're going to get any more people upset about your existence than Regina."

He looked down, patterns tracing across her stomach. "Maybe as Sheriff I was liked, sometimes. Not as the man I was before," he explained.

She looked down thoughtfully, spreading her hands over his. "That wasn't your fault, what happened then." She brushed against his ring, straightening it. "Besides, you're married to their Savior," she said, with some amount of bitterness at the label.

"Worried about it?" he asked at her tone. She shrugged, and he carefully placed a kiss to her temple. "They don't just love you because of the moniker, princess," he replied warmly.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, there's that title, too. Besides, you're father of the next little royal, so they'll have to get used to you eventually."

"Looks like I lost my job, though," he commented as David waved from across the street. The gleaming six-pointed star at his waist proved that as he jogged over the intersection.

"You get better benefits as a detective," Emma said dryly.

"Hey, even my deputy got dental in Storybrooke," Graham teased, to which Emma smirked. Carefully, he extracted himself from her, though her hand entwined with his.

David's face was openly nervous as he finally reached them. "Hey, guys! I wanted to meet up with you both before you went into town," David said.

"Make sure I don't give the citizens of Storybrooke a heart attack?" Graham asked, then grimaced and placed a hand over his heart. "Poor choice of words."

David frowned. "Yeah, well, it's still going to be a problem to get the word around. We need to make sure people don't assume you're some trick of the evil that sent us here or something."

Graham's brow furrowed, nodding. Honestly, that wasn't the thing he would be most worried about. Fear of him being something he's not was one thing; fear of being the person he was, he anticipated being more damaging. Emma seemed to sense the turn of his thought as she squeezed his hand.

"Ideas, then?" she asked, squaring her shoulders. Her eyes glinted with a flash of steel, the protectiveness he recognized from the night before.

David nodded. "We need to make an announcement of some sort. Tell people that you three are back, so they're not blindsided. We don't need panic."

"Emma?"

The three turned to the sudden bolt of a young red-headed child throwing himself at his wife. The boy held her across the waist, tears shining in his eyes. "You came to save us," he murmured gently.

Emma's eyes were wide, and she half turned to Graham with a bewildered look before returning to the child. "Au—"

"Son, why are you disturbing these people?" a heavily accented voice asked, merriment and exasperation apparent even before he turned the corner.

Something warmed within Graham, to remember the gentle prodding of the older man who would volunteer to do paperwork with him on lonely evenings before Emma came. He had been such a calm presence, a balm in between Regina's _requests_. Someone to banter with, like an older relative that doesn't judge or act rudely; more than an acquaintance, but the curse preventing them from becoming friends.

"Marco," Graham breathed finally, a smile stretching across his face.

The older man glanced up from his son, his eyes widening. He looked over to the other adults before settling on him again. "Graham, my boy, you're _alive_?"

The endearment slid across him like a warm cloak, the lingering fear that the people he bonded with during the curse would hold him accountable for the things done in his past melting away. He barely managed a nod before Marco embraced him, patting his back fondly. He pulled away with a grin.

"I know enough not to ask how these things happen: just to be glad that they did," Marco stated, placing a hand atop the ginger boy's head. "My son, Pinocchio. Say 'hello' to the former Sheriff."

The boy ducked his head back shyly before peeking around. "Hi," he said in a small voice. Then, in a voice common to children thinking they're whispering, "I thought Mr. Nolan was the Sheriff."

"I am. But Emma was before me, and Graham before her," David supplied.

Graham grinned, only half noting the stunned look on Emma's face. "It's good to meet you," he replied. He didn't remember seeing the kid around town, but he felt it was best not to ask.

Marco's eyes flicked back between Emma and him, amusement apparent in the spark. "Ah, so you have brought your family, I see? Miss Swan no longer?" he pressed.

Emma's eyes rolled up before she finally gave in, resting the length of her side against him. "Swan-Humbert. Henry's the same," she explained, her lip quirking up slightly.

"And are we keeping the little one a secret for now?" he asked knowingly.

His mouth parted, and Emma sucked in a small breath before cupping her belly. "Dammit, you can tell?" she asked, turning toward the glass entrance of Granny's, stretching her shirt across her stomach in different angles.

Marco was chuckling to the side, hiding it beneath his palm. "I have been around a long time, my dear. Do not worry, me and my son keep to ourselves, anyway," he said. He tipped his hat and took the boy's hand, twisting them around. "Congratulations, though. May your return only bring you happiness."

"And to you," Graham returned quickly, an old habit of their goodbyes. He turned to Emma who was still grumbling to herself. "Well, one down."

She sighed and returned to his side. "Two, really. Damn, it's still weird to see August."

"Oh, _that's_ August," Graham said, a frown tugging down the corner of his lips. He tried not to take the mistakes of the older version to heap upon this young boy, and finally shrugged off the notion.

"Well, we can use Marco's help. And Granny and Red's. Between all of us, I think we can—"

"Sheriff?"

All three turn to the voice, only to be met by the wide eyes of Leroy.

David held up his hands. "Now, Leroy, don't—"

"HUGE NEWS, EVERYONE!" Leroy shouted, running to the diner at break-neck speed.

Graham blinked, the whole thing going too fast to even truly comprehend. He met Emma's eye in disorientation, then David's.

David sighed, rubbing his temples. "Damage control. My advice? Go back to bed," he stated, jogging into the diner after the short man. "Leroy, could you just let me explain …?"

Graham blew out a low breath. "Should we go in?"

Emma shook her head. "I say we take David's advice. I'm pregnant, I get to make these decisions for us."

Graham chuckled, pressing his forehead to hers lovingly. "Avoidance?"

She shook her head. "Postponement. Let's get breakfast with our son."

That, more than anything else, relaxed his whole body. This was still his family. Any changes to the group, any dangers, any judgment … it meant nothing compared to these four people that were as essential to him as any limb. "I'm not usually one to procrastinate, but I think I'll take you up on it this once."

She flashed a smile. "It's going to work out, isn't it?" she asked lowly.

He squeezed her hand, trying to smile as his heart cracked along the edges at the brokenness in her tone. "As a team."

She nodded. "So, let's get the kid out of bed. We can order room service."


End file.
